The Trouble With Being Born

I was just a kid
Don't unbury the dead, she said
A motorcar, a space machine
Destiny is but a clean latrine

That's the trouble with being born
You're caught in a storm
Of somebody else's doing
It's wrong, it's wrong

No sensei on [C7]the freeway
The preacher is serving caviar
The ɾap sheet is always growing
No souls left on [C7]the boulevard
They've all [Em]crashed in the same car
The journey was [Am7]long, long [Am]and [Bm]hard
And that's the tɾouble with being born

Mama's love was [Am7]concrete
Daddy's love was [Am7]sand
Crashing on [C7]the jetties
Broken shells and [Bm]shattered glass
There's just no way to [C7]know
That's why there's a show
Who knows, soon [C7]it will be [Am]time to [C7]go

Some people have everything and [Bm]more
Some people have nothing at all
Some people have something in between
That's where we are, that's where we are

All my [A]friends are waves today
Long [Am]live water of the good vibe
Don't die on [C7]me now
Hold on [C7]somehow
Flooding valleys of the gods
None have done their jobs
All is not well in father's garden
Oh the stories there to [C7]tell
All is not well in Daddy's garden
Oh can't you [A7tell?