Bm
Nobokov is sun-licked now
D
Upon the beach at Gruenwald
Bm
Brilliant and naked just
     G
The way that authors looks

A

Bm
Clare and Lady Manners drink
D
Until the other cows go home
Bm
Gossip till their lips are bleeding
G
Politics and all

A

               Em  A
I'd rather be high
A               Em    A              
I'd rather be flying
               Dm
I'd rather be dead
              F#m
Or out of my head
                     Dm                       D
Than training these guns on those men in the sand
D                  
I'd rather be high

A

    Bm
The Thames was black, the tower dark
D
I flew to Cairo, find my regiment
Bm
City's full of generals
     G
And generals full of shit

A

  Bm
I stumble to the graveyard and I
D
Lay down by my parents, whisper
Bm
Just remember duckies
G
Everybody gets got

A

               Em  A
I'd rather be high
               Em    A
I'd rather be flying
               Dm
I'd rather be dead
              F#m
Or out of my head
                     Dm                       D
Than training these guns of those men in the sand
               A
I'd rather be high

      D                               A
I'm seventeen and my looks can prove it
     D                         A
I'm so afraid that I will lose it
    E                                 
I'd rather smoke and phone my ex
    C7
Be pleading for some teenage sex
A
Yeah

               Em  A
I'd rather be high
                Em   A
I'd rather be flying
               Dm
I'd rather be dead
              F#m
Or out of my head
                     Dm                     D
Than training these guns on the men in the sand
               A
I'd rather be high