Song: Good Morning, Hypocrite
Artist: Electric President
Album: Electric President
Tabbed by: Tom Richards
There is a version of this already on Ultimate Guitar, but some of the chords do
not sound 100% right. As it is one of my favourite songs I thought I'd offer up a
kind of re-layed out correction. For those of you wanting to jump straight in,
I've provided the basic chord structure in brief before the main event, but this
is at best an awkward structural gimmick.
Intro/Verse/Chorus : F C G
Bridge: C Em F C Bb F G# Bb C
Verse: F[C] C[G] G[F][G][C]
Outro: F C G
Intro:
[F] [C] [G]
Verse:
[F]Seems like the roads stretch out like v[C]eins, but there's no h[G]eart.
Nature's haircut is concrete now, and we played our part.
So we sing ... (F C G)
I've lost my taste for modern things. They're not for me.
I want mundane: a quiet place, where time is free,
And I can sing ... (F C G)
Bridge:
[C]Crawled from my [Em]bed, to coll[F]ect the thoughts that had
fallen from my h[C]ead,
And [Bb]you watched me si[F]nk, through the carp[G#]et, through the
basement, and be[Bb]yond.
And you didn't blin[C]k.
[C]On the glass, I t[G]raced the s[F]un with my thumb. It s[G]ank into the gr[C]ound.
[C]And then the star[G]s were blin[F]king like kids who wer[G]e staring into the [C]wind.
[C]So I climbed thro[G]ugh the win[F]dow and walked until I[G] lost my nam[C]e.
[C]Now I can [G]play the vic[F]tim. It's fine. I've[G] seen it on [Am]TV.
But if there's one t[G]hing I know, it's that I never really
know en[F]ough.
Verse:
[F]Our hands, our mouths, our brains, our lungs: t[C]hey're just mach[G]ines.
[F]These hearts are all that we've got left, and t[C]hey don't beat.[G]
Outro: F C G
Live a little, talk a lot; it's the way this goes.
I've come to fear the little knives beneath their well-pressed clothes.
Their arms are reaching; reach is spreading through the neon glow.
Their mouths are moving, but their voices sound like telephones.
The traffic hums; the traffic grumbles near my old window.
The street lights flicker; glow and hover like suspended snow.
I used to watch the moon retreat and wonder where it goes.
Now I just wonder why my head is overrun with ghosts.
I hope you enjoy playing playing this! If you have any further questions/issues
than email me at tom.b.richards@gmail.com.
Artist: Electric President
Album: Electric President
Tabbed by: Tom Richards
There is a version of this already on Ultimate Guitar, but some of the chords do
not sound 100% right. As it is one of my favourite songs I thought I'd offer up a
kind of re-layed out correction. For those of you wanting to jump straight in,
I've provided the basic chord structure in brief before the main event, but this
is at best an awkward structural gimmick.
----------IN SHORT----------
Intro/Verse/Chorus : F C G
Bridge: C Em F C Bb F G# Bb C
Verse: F[C] C[G] G[F][G][C]
Outro: F C G
------------------------------
Intro:
[F] [C] [G]
Verse:
[F]Seems like the roads stretch out like v[C]eins, but there's no h[G]eart.
Nature's haircut is concrete now, and we played our part.
So we sing ... (F C G)
I've lost my taste for modern things. They're not for me.
I want mundane: a quiet place, where time is free,
And I can sing ... (F C G)
Bridge:
[C]Crawled from my [Em]bed, to coll[F]ect the thoughts that had
fallen from my h[C]ead,
And [Bb]you watched me si[F]nk, through the carp[G#]et, through the
basement, and be[Bb]yond.
And you didn't blin[C]k.
[C]On the glass, I t[G]raced the s[F]un with my thumb. It s[G]ank into the gr[C]ound.
[C]And then the star[G]s were blin[F]king like kids who wer[G]e staring into the [C]wind.
[C]So I climbed thro[G]ugh the win[F]dow and walked until I[G] lost my nam[C]e.
[C]Now I can [G]play the vic[F]tim. It's fine. I've[G] seen it on [Am]TV.
But if there's one t[G]hing I know, it's that I never really
know en[F]ough.
Verse:
[F]Our hands, our mouths, our brains, our lungs: t[C]hey're just mach[G]ines.
[F]These hearts are all that we've got left, and t[C]hey don't beat.[G]
Outro: F C G
Live a little, talk a lot; it's the way this goes.
I've come to fear the little knives beneath their well-pressed clothes.
Their arms are reaching; reach is spreading through the neon glow.
Their mouths are moving, but their voices sound like telephones.
The traffic hums; the traffic grumbles near my old window.
The street lights flicker; glow and hover like suspended snow.
I used to watch the moon retreat and wonder where it goes.
Now I just wonder why my head is overrun with ghosts.
----------------------
I hope you enjoy playing playing this! If you have any further questions/issues
than email me at tom.b.richards@gmail.com.
