http://www.thecudband.com

CUD - VOCALLY SPEAKING
----------------------

from the album 'When In Rome, Kill Me'

transcribed by chrisgriffiths@hotmail.com



Intro Verse
-----------

    E          B          F#
E-|----------------------------------------|
B-|----------------------------------------|
G-|----------------------------------------|
D-|--9--9--9----4--4--4--------------------|
A-|--7--7--7----2--2--2----4--4--4---4-4-4-|
E-|0----------0---------0--2--2--2---2-2-2-|


Chorus
------

    E        A       F#
E-|----------------------------------------|
B-|----------2-2-2---2-2--2--2----2--2-----|
G-|-1-1--1---2-2-2---3-3--3--3----3--3-----|
D-|-2-2--2---2-2-2---4-4--4--4----4--4-----|
A-|-2-2--2---0-0-0---4-4--4--4----4--4-----|
E-|-0-0--0-----------2-2--2--2----2--2-----|

    A        E       F#                   repeat 
E-|----------------------------------------|
B-|------------------2-2--2--2----2--2-----|
G-|-2-2--2---1-1-1---3-3--3--3----3--3-----|
D-|-2-2--2---2-2-2---4-4--4--4----4--4-----|
A-|-0-0--0---2-2-2---4-4--4--4----4--4-----|
E-|----------0-0-0---2-2--2--2----2--2-----|

    B                C#
E-|----------------------------------------|
B-|-4-4-4-4-4-4-4-4--6-6-6-6-6-6-6-6-------|
G-|-4-4-4-4-4-4-4-4--6-6-6-6-6-6-6-6-------|
D-|-4-4-4-4-4-4-4-4--6-6-6-6-6-6-6-6-------|
A-|-2-2-2-2-2-2-2-2--4-4-4-4-4-4-4-4----2--|
E-|-------------------------------------0--|


G
D
A
E


VERSE 1
-------
Feeling bad, feeling good,
Entertaining rakshasa,
Into palading like I knew I could,
DSSS hassle,
Looking Up, looking down,
Smoking pipes of White Castle,
Can't find no life in this damn town,
'Cos the bluetits give me hassle.

CHORUS
------
And people look at me so strange,
When I 'm as limited as my vocal range.

VERSE 2
-------
Feeling hot, feeling cold,
I feel a slave to my bottle,
I stay in bed over night and day,
'Cos the rubber is perished and rotten,
Feeling sour, feeling sweet,
Sidewalk hard under my feet
J. P. Sebastienne magnifique,
Oozingly charismatic.

VERSE 3
-------
Feeling nice, cooking rice,
'Cos there's rubber in my tummy,
And all my dole couldn't fill the hole,
So I write pleading letters to my mummy,
Feeling bushed, trained and pushed,
Tramps demanding my loose change,
I really would, if I only could, expand upon my vocal range....