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Johnny Hobo And The Freight Trains

The Politics Of Holy Shit I Just Cut My Hand On A Bottle

by Johnny Hobo And The Freight Trains
Johnny Hobo And The Freight Trains

Biography:

Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains were a nihilistic folk-punk band from southern Vermont. They didn't hop freight trains. They did like to drink forties by the train tracks where the police wouldn't bother them. Most shows were a solo acoustic performance, but the full band at various times included Flash-C (trumpet), Ian Skumfuck (washtub bass), Jeff-face (harmonica), Roman (bicycle), Michael Jordan (drums), & Wyatt (harmonica).

The last show was in 2007.

Read more on Last.fm

Johnny Hobo And The Freight Trains

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  • The Politics Of Holy Shit I Just Cut My Hand On A Bottle
  • Untitled
  • Urine Speaks Louder Than Words
  • Where Is My Coffee
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409 Artist   139 Music   248 Tab Tab
[Verse]

C G Em F
He talks about nothing using too many words.
C G Em F C G Em F
He talks revolution for an hour without using any verbs.
C G Em F
She acts the rage which is most of her problem.
C G Em F
In love with everyone until she wakes up tomorrow.
C G Em F
Another Saturday night.
C G Em F
Another fucking shitty Saturday night.


[Bridge]

C Em
I'm sitting in the next room,
F G
Slurring along to my isolation
C
At the top of my lungs.
Em
I'm sitting here next to you.
F G
Sore throat from jokes about all the dumbest things I've done.


[Chorus]

C Am F G
I don't wanna, be anywhere at all
C Am F G
Here or at my house kicking at the wall
C Am
If home is where the heart is
F G
Then I live in my upper chest.
C F C
I'm gonna drink until these tears
G
Start to taste like the cheap beer.
C F C
I'm gonna drink tonight until these tears
G
Start to taste like the cheap beer.


[Verse]

C G Em F
The bottles are stacked like they show how we're different.
C G Em F
And that maybe if we were sober
C G Em F
We could explain what this all meant.
C G Em F
But pints of Vodka don't write poetry.
C G Em F
You can't rearrange crushed pills into melodies.
C G
But I swear to fuck;
Em F C
That a brick through a broken Starbucks window means more.
G
And I swear to fuck;
Em F C
That we fight more systems when we're passed out on the floor.
G
Than the words of Kropotkin ever could.
Em F
And all the works of Karl Marx ever fucking could.


[Verse]

C Em
I'm puking in the next room.
F
Sorry about the carpet,
G C
Clean it up or your mom'll be mad.
Em
I'm pretending that I'm too good for you.
F G
So you can't see the worthless pathetic person I am.


[Bridge]

C
Better to seem like an asshole,
G
Than what you are.
Em
The billionth teenage boy with social problems
F
To plays the guitar.


[Chorus]

C Am
I'm not sure what I want you to say to me.
F G
But I know the look on your face that I want to see.
C Am
If home is where the heart is
F G
Then mine is a cigarette.
C F C
I'm gonna drink until these tears
G
Start to taste like the cheap beer.
C F C
I'm gonna drink tonight until these tears
G
Start to taste like the cheap beer.


[Verse]

C G Em F
I'm not you and that's good enough for me.
C G Em F
The only word that I use is fuck,
C G Em F
So you can forget the dictionary.


[Bridge]

C G Em F
I can't tell what question you're asking.
C G Em F
I don't care 'cause no is my answer.


C G Em F
Another Saturday night.
C G Em F
Against everything on Saturday night.


[Verse]

C Em
I'm bleeding in the next room.
F G C
Let it happen 'cause maybe the blood-loss will add to my high.
Em
I'm here beating up on you.
F G
'cause I'm just drunk enough to be sure that I'm ready to die.
C Em F G
I don't care that you don't care that I don't care.
C Em F G
The only card game I know is strip solitaire.


[Chorus]

C Am
If home is where the heart is
F G
I got evicted this week.
C F C
I'm gonna drink until these tears
G
Start to taste like the cheap beer.
C F C
I'm gonna drink tonight until these tears
G
Start to taste like the cheap beer.




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