Trucks

C F Am C F Am C F Am Every morning, fighting through a coma C F Am Each affliction carries its misnomer C F Am F Trucks roll loud into the port C F Am F They go where I could never know C F Am My toes are freezing, cold cuts through the Persian C F Am Rug I've stolen, Dad thinks that I've borrowed C F Am F He gives more than I can pay back C F Am F Twenty-two, I'll never pay him back C F Oh, ashtray sitting on the table filled with dead moths C Floating in the rainwater with pill bags F It's winter, south of the river without a job C Oh, I don't see it getting any better C F Instr II C C F Am Empty bottles, if not for the burnt butts C F Am Falling over, wind in from the coast cuts C F Am F Hard and sharp, messes up my hair C F Am F Leaves fall, peppering the air C F Oh, ashtray sitting on the table filled with dead moths C Floating in the rainwater with pill bags F It's winter, south of the river without a job C Oh, I don't see it getting any better F Oh, I don't see it getting any better Instr Break C F Am C F Am Am Am Am C F Oh, ashtray sitting on the table filled with dead moths C Floating in the rainwater with pill bags F It's winter, south of the river without a job C Oh, I don't see it getting any better