Capital

	  		
Dm 
If even David's hollowed out then god 
                              Am              F 
There must be a kind of magic to the way they break you down 
Gm            Am         Bb 
Tired and overrun on the weekend you caught the sun 
                Dm            Am              Dm 
There must be a kind of magic to the way they break you 
Dm 
And listening to the pigeons as you lay 
                            Am             F 
Tallying the sleeping hours left until the waking day 
Gm              Am       Bb 
Groveling to forget some second to last regret 
               Dm            Am             Dm 
Passing by the golden clock upon the golden balcony 

C                 F    Bb 
Has it all been a long con 
C            F    Bb 
Capital as a real god 
C                 F   Bb 
Bear it all as an old dog 
C            F    Bb 
Capital as a real god 

Dm 
Brighton in the wind strikes you and then 
                             Am              F 
Carrying the best belongings up and down the station steps 
Gm                  Am        Bb 
To meet on summer's green, oh I know the flats you mean 
                Dm            Am            Dm 
There must be a kind of magic to the way we stay true 

C                 F    Bb 
Has it all been a long con 
C            F    Bb 
Capital as a real god 
C                 F   Bb 
Bear it all as an old dog 
C            F    Bb 
Capital as a real god 

Dm Bb F