Intro Am
Am
It's the demolition derby
It's the sport of the hunt
Am G D
Proud tribe in full war-dance
G Am
It's the slow smile that the bully gives the runt
Am
It's the force of inertia
It's the lack of constraint
Am G D
It's the children out playing in the rock garden
G Am
All dolled-up in black hats and war paint
E
Sometimes it feels like bars of steel
I cannot bend with my hands
Am Em G Am
Oh - I worry too much
Am Em G Am
Somebody told me that I worry too much
Am
Am
It's these sandpaper eyes
It's the way they rub the lustre from what is seen
Am G D
It's the way we tell ourselves that all these things are normal
G Am
Till we can't remember what we mean
Am
It's the flicker of our flames
It's the friction born of living
Am G
It's the way we beat a hot retreat
D G Am
And heave our smoking guns into the river
E
Sometimes it feels like bars of steel
I cannot bend with my hands
Am Em G Am
Oh - I worry too much
Am Em G Am
Somebody told me that I worry too much
Am Em G Am
Am Em G Am
Am Em G
Am
Am
It's the quick-step march of history
The vanity of nations
Am G
It's the way there'll be no muffled drums
D G Am
To mark the passage of my generation
Am
It's the children of my children
It's the lambs born in innocence
Am G
It's wondering if the good I know
D G Am
Will last to be seen by the eyes of the little ones
E
Sometimes it feels like bars of steel
I cannot bend with my hands
Repeat below lines four times
Am Em G Am
Oh - I worry too much
Am Em G Am
Somebody told me that I worry too much
Am G Emm Am play 4 times
Copyright 1991 Ideola Music ASCAP
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