Four Chords That Made A Million
Six of one, a half a dozenBlack guitars and plastic bluesHide behind a wall of nothingNothing said and nothing new
Four chords that made a million
You belong there on the coverYou are the emperor in new clothesA man who thinks he owns the futureWill sell you a vacuum with his prose
Four chords that made a million
And then a moron with a cheque bookWill take you out to lunch, who knows?He will tell you you're a saviourAnd then he'll drop you like a stone
Four chords that made a million
And I have tried and I have diedTrying to get throughBut in the end I can't defend you
Four chords that made a million