Wind Up Teclado

	  Tabbed by Rick Steele 

D                  Em                     D                     F# 
When I was young and they packed me off to school 
                 G                 D                   Asus2  A 
and they taught me how not to play the game, 
D           Em                 D                  F# 
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success, 
   G                     D                 Asus2  A 
or if they said that I was just a fool. 
D                                Em    
So I left there in the morning 
              D                                        F# 
with their God tucked underneath my arm -- 
             G                  D                     Asus2  A 
their half-assed smiles, and the book of rules. 
D                                    Em    
So I asked this God a question 
            D             F# 
and by way of firm reply, 
              G                               D                             Asus2  A  
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays. 

D                    Em                          D               F# 
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares): 
   G                          D                    Asus2  A 
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers -- 
D                 Em    
I don't believe you: 
                    D                           F# 
you had the whole damn thing all wrong -- 
         G                       D                           Asus2  A 
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays. 

                     G          A                      D                       Bm 
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school  
              G                    A                        Bm 
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines -- 
Bm 
how do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son 
         G                       D                F# 
when that was just an accident of Birth. 
Bm 
I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song 
         G                       D                F# 
`cos that's the honest measure of my worth. 
G                                      A                    D                 Bm 
in Your pomp and all your glory, you're a poorer man than me 
           G                        A                    Bm 
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear 

Bm 
When I was young  they packed me off to school 
            G                 D                     F# 
and  taught me how not to play the game, 
Bm 
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success, 
    G                   D                 F# 
or if they said that I was just a fool. 
                    G           A                      D                       Bm 
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school 
             G                           A                 Bm 
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines -- 

G                                      A                   D                   Bm 
in Your pomp and all your glory, you're a poorer man than me 
            G                     A                    Bm 
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear 
D                  Em                     D                     F# 
When I was young and they packed me off to school 
                 G                 D                   Asus2  A 
and they taught me how not to play the game, 
D          Em               D                       F# 
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success, 
   G                     D                 Asus2  A 
or if they said that I was just a fool. 
D                     Em                          D             F# 
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares): 
  G                            D                     Asus2  A 
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers -- 
                     G          A                      D                        Bm 
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school  
              G                     A                       Bm 
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines -- 
D                 Em    
I don't believe you: 
                    D                               F# 
you had the whole damn thing all wrong -- 
         G                       D                          Asus2  A 
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.