Whitechapel Mound

Transpose
Year: 2000
Album: Black River Falls

INTRO
Dmadd9 
VERSE 1
 
They’re  
Dmadd9 
dumping Mayfair  
Am 
magazines from the  
Dmadd9 
shop beside the  
Am 
mosque
 
Some  
Dmadd9 
wheezing children  
Am 
peek at them as the  
Dmadd9 
rain dissolves their  
Am 
gloss
 
The  
Dmadd9 
angel has been  
Am 
taken from the  
Dmadd9 
vacant dosshouse  
Am 
block
Dm 
No charge, no  
Ebmaj7 
cost
VERSE 2
 
The  
Dmadd9 
alchemist of  
Am 
shopping carts sits  
Dmadd9 
on his salvaged  
Am 
throne
 
In the  
Dmadd9 
sealed-up air-raid  
Am 
shelter which he  
Dmadd9 
annexed for his  
Am 
home
 
In the  
Dmadd9 
good old nineteen-
Am 
seventies when the  
Dmadd9 
nihilist was  
Am 
king
 
Each  
Dm 
wall has a  
Ebmaj7 
theme
 
Same  
Dm 
smudged dockyard  
Ebmaj7 
scene
 
He  
Em 
hums as he  
A7 
paces the  
Em 
floor 
 
 
A7 
 
It  
Em 
can’t be much  
A7 
longer, for  
Em 
sure 
 
 
A7 
 
Til  
Em 
cheque-books are  
A7 
stripped for his  
Em 
pay 
 
 
A7 
 
And  
Em 
flame-haired young  
A7 
snobs beg to  
Em 
stay 
 
 
A7 
 
You  
Dm 
don’t come a  
Ebmaj7 
round
 
After  
Dm 
Whitechapel 
 
 
Ebmaj7 
Mound
VERSE 3
 
The  
Dmadd9 
millionaire 
 
con
Am 
servator, with  
Dmadd9 
skull and crossbones  
Am 
tie
Dmadd9 
Eyed the trembling  
Am 
supplicant “You  
Dmadd9 
know I paid for  
Am 
lies”
 
“We  
Dmadd9 
need you ten years  
Am 
younger on the  
Dmadd9 
needle, on the  
Am 
rob”
 
“Now get  
Dm 
out of my  
Ebmaj7 
sight!”
VERSE 4
 
They  
Ebmaj7/G 
go about in  
Am 
silence and their  
Ebmaj7/G 
lie is not their  
Am 
own
 
It was  
Ebmaj7/G 
written for them  
Am 
years ago but  
Ebmaj7/G 
now it’s over  
Am 
grown
 
Like the  
Ebmaj7/G 
heating duct they moved to when they  
Ebmaj7/G 
got thrown off the roads
 
You  
Dm 
can’t scrounge a  
Ebmaj7 
deal
 
Or get  
Dm 
close enough to  
Ebmaj7 
steal
 
In a  
Em 
cube of that  
A7 
grey soupy  
Em 
light 
 
 
A7 
 
The  
Em 
alcove 
 
Ma
A7 
donna 
 
re
Em 
cli
A7 
nes
 
Be
Em 
low lies a  
A7 
room, scrawled and  
Em 
breached 
 
 
A7 
 
Hear the  
Em 
cries of her  
A7 
jelly-limbed 
 
 
Em 
prie
A7 
st
 
“Oh your  
Em 
loins are a
A7 
pocalypse, 
 
 
Em 
dear” 
 
 
A7 
 
He  
Em 
barks through the  
A7 
gate of his  
Em 
teeth 
 
 
A7 
 
“Your de
Em 
cline is the  
A7 
plunger of  
Em 
che
A7 
er”
 
But she  
Em 
hears not a  
A7 
word as she  
Em 
sle
A7 
eps
 
Dm 
Blameless and  
Ebmaj7 
sound
 
On  
Dm 
Whitechapel 
 
 
Ebmaj7 
Mound
FADE
Dm