Grieves - The Blindfold The Bullet chords

Intro : Am C F E

Verse :
                                      Am
Stick stained with the color of my blood
                            
Life has been a variance of luck
C
And a bunch of long trips getting dragged behind a truck
F
It's not the vision that I had when I was young
E                                                                          
But it's better than pretending and then biting down on my tongue when they
   Am
ask me
Go ahead and walk right past me
C
I don't need them now, a broken wave
                     F
No matter how the world spins round or the bounty on my plate
         E            
What's inside of me is never gonna change
But they don't wanna look
Skipping like a stone across a brook
Trying to keep me is a secret is strung up on a hook
You can't evolve without somebody feeling took
And reacting like they never seen upon attack a rook
Get a grip, I've been painting pictures like this
Long before you knew that a person like me existed
You point your finger claiming product of the system
But you wouldn't know the difference if it bit you

Chorus : 
[ Tab from: http://www.guitaretab.com/g/grieves/386477.html ]
Am                 E
Some things will always be the same
C                     F
I'm still right here to take the blame
Am            E                
One thing or another, it's all the same
C                E                       Am
It feels like I'm trying to start a fire in the rain

C F E

Verse : (same chords as before)

It's like I'm spitting in the wind
Judged by a jury full of trained
Jumping kids trying to find a better skin
I've made a valiant effort in my life to be honest with myself
But no matter what I do I'll never win
The needle and the pen
Writing it all out for those receiving it
Trying to get a breath amongst the smog
Sounding like a tuned down song that's been stringing me along
Trying to figure out where all of this went wrong
It'd be easier to laugh
Singing this from the inside of the casket
Rapping out of tune, writing poems on a napkin
You can't excel without em poking at your passion
Following your tracks and a force full of has-beens
If you were so sure morality bounce
What's the point of sticking round and watching old men drown?
The dumbest child throwing stones in glass houses
You wouldn't know a challenge if it found em

[Chorus]