Standard (EADGBE)

The walls of our house are thinner than paper

 The roof is a vapor that hangs in the air

And our wedding bed is made from the same stuff

 Our bodies are made of

Chorus

If no heavy breath blew up these lungs

  Gbar

While dirt and wet spit hung a ghost in the air

 We’re still here

While kids and their friends make war (or warm?) by the fire

 Their old men retire to drink and do drugs

We long for the truth We argue about it

 But most of us doubt it will ever be found

So no heavy breath blew up these lungs

  Gbar

While dirt and wet spit hung a ghost in the air

 But we’re still here

 We’re still here