[Bm]All he [Em]ever wanted to do was [F#7]harm
[Bm]All he [Em]ever wanted to be was [F#7]cruel
At [Bm]twelve years [D]old Fate [A]marked his [Em]brow
And he[Bm] said, I [D]have a [A]mission [Em]now
But we [Gmaj7]laughed at his [F#m7]clothes
And the [Gmaj7]blackheads round his [F#m7]nose
When we were [B]boys at school
Teachers spoke of Hannibal and Hector
Nimrod and Nietzsche were his fuel
Swastikas and pentagrams
Flourished from his tender hands
But we watched in the rain
As the bully beat him up again
When we were boys at school
[Dm]And he said, my camouflage will hide me
[Gm]I?ll be [Dm]grey as the [Gm]world is [Dm]grey
[Em]A thousand government corridors
Be[Am]hind which [Em]of a [Am]thousand [Em]doors
Will I [F#m]delegate and rule, o l[F#sus4]ittle boys at school
[Bm]All he [Em]ever wanted to do was [F#7]harm
[Bm]All he [Em]ever wanted to be was [F#7]cruel
And [Bbm]sometimes [C#]when the [G#]night is [D#m]still
I can [Bbm]feel the [C#]gathering [G#]of his [D#m]will
I can [Bm]feel him [D]flex the [A]strings of [Em]power
And [Bm]grope to [D]his ap[A]pointed [Em]hour
But we [Gmaj7]laughed at the [F#m7]dirt
And the [Gmaj7]frayed cuffs on his [F#m7]shirt
When [C]we were boys at [C7]school
by: Jos Duarte
jtduarte1@gmail.com
[Bm]All he [Em]ever wanted to be was [F#7]cruel
At [Bm]twelve years [D]old Fate [A]marked his [Em]brow
And he[Bm] said, I [D]have a [A]mission [Em]now
But we [Gmaj7]laughed at his [F#m7]clothes
And the [Gmaj7]blackheads round his [F#m7]nose
When we were [B]boys at school
Teachers spoke of Hannibal and Hector
Nimrod and Nietzsche were his fuel
Swastikas and pentagrams
Flourished from his tender hands
But we watched in the rain
As the bully beat him up again
When we were boys at school
[Dm]And he said, my camouflage will hide me
[Gm]I?ll be [Dm]grey as the [Gm]world is [Dm]grey
[Em]A thousand government corridors
Be[Am]hind which [Em]of a [Am]thousand [Em]doors
Will I [F#m]delegate and rule, o l[F#sus4]ittle boys at school
[Bm]All he [Em]ever wanted to do was [F#7]harm
[Bm]All he [Em]ever wanted to be was [F#7]cruel
And [Bbm]sometimes [C#]when the [G#]night is [D#m]still
I can [Bbm]feel the [C#]gathering [G#]of his [D#m]will
I can [Bm]feel him [D]flex the [A]strings of [Em]power
And [Bm]grope to [D]his ap[A]pointed [Em]hour
But we [Gmaj7]laughed at the [F#m7]dirt
And the [Gmaj7]frayed cuffs on his [F#m7]shirt
When [C]we were boys at [C7]school
by: Jos Duarte
jtduarte1@gmail.com
