Tonart: D major•
Intro 1
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Am
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Verse 1
F#m
at the party in a pair of dark glasses
Am
Em
His grandfather wore in the war
G
Saying nothing to no- one,
F#m
just drinks as if that's
Am
Em
What God gave him his ugly mouth for
A
And he doesn't make passes
D
at the girls in the corner
Am
In their Bolshevik glasses
A
D
and black
A
Am
When they giggle a little
Am
E
The gatecrasher only looks back
Verse 2
C#m
He takes in the faces,
D
never quite placing them
C#m
Bm
Squinting his short- sighted eyes
C#m
And each one reminds him of
A
Am
Abm
Or someone he faintly dislikes
E
Am
And he can't understand
Am
G
Forcing two strangers to talk
Am
When language is always and
Gm
F
E
And people are like cheese and chalk
Am
Interlude 1
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Verse 3
G
So he lifts himself out of
F#m
his squatting position
Am
Em
And gets up for something to eat
G
But the ham is too pink
F#m
and the turkey is cardboard
D
Am
Em
And the plate is as floppy as meat
Am
So he fills up his glass with
Am
D
Snatched from some new arrivals who stare
Am
A
As he tips back his head like
D
a man seized with laughter
Am
E
And spits the drink into the fire
Verse 4
C#m
And he looks so appealing
D
with eyes like a bloodhound
C#m
And hair like the 'Quatre Cent
C#m
With the holes in his trousers
Bm
designed to arouse us
A
He looks like he'd know
Am
E
what to do
Am
On the rims of his eyes there's
Bb
a trace of infection
Am
Gm
Or maybe the mark of a tear
Am
G
Gm
F
And is it mascara or is it bacteria, there where the white,
E
where the white disappears?
Interlude 2
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Verse 5
G
And which of those girls
F#m
isn't scared of him
Am
Em
And which of us isn't the same
F#m
of the four of them
Am
No one remembers the gatecrasher's name
D
Interlude 3
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D
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D
Verse 6
Am
Abm
the tip of a finger
Am
Bm
F#m
He's just used for scratching his ear
A
He wrinkles his nose at
Abm
the taste of the wax
Bm
F#m
Which, like him, is acidic and sour
A
Am
And just for a second something
comes back to him
Something so real and remote
D
Am
That he tips back his vodka
A
Am
to blank out the thought
E
And he grins as it scorches his throat
Verse 7
C#m
Maybe he thought of his mother,
D
how she kicked out his father
C#m
When he'd pushed her around
C#m
And how he'd pretended
Bm
to sleep as she hugged him
A
And how he'd been calmed
Am
Abm
by her touch
Am
Or he's sad with nostalgia
Bb
for a little Italian
Am
He met in a bar in Milan
G
Gm
Am
While they swept up the glass
F
E
He knew she'd be thinking of him
Am
She'd be thinking of him
D
Am
Interlude 4
D
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Verse 8
G
Or he wonders why Hitler
F#m
liked lemon verbena
Am
Em
And whether he loved Eva Braun
G
F#m
Or maybe he thinks of his cheap bed
D
A
Am
D
A
Am
and breakfast
D
On the far side of town
Outro 1
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TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteD Am G F#m Em...
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