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Prochecies by Motograter




                                            Prochecies




Tuning: A-E-A-D-F#-B or 7 string AEADGBe
(Motograter DOES use 6 string.)
* means natural harmonic.
 
Intro 1- play riff x2(might wanna play around with the harmonic frett)
-----------------------|
-----------------------|
-----------------------|
------------------4444-|
------------------4444-|
-6-2-3-2--6-2-3-2------|
                  ****
Intro 2- Play riff x2
-----------------------|
-----------------------|
-----------------------|
-6-2-3-2--6-2-3-2-4444-|
-6-2-3-2--6-2-3-2-4444-|
-6-2-3-2--6-2-3-2------|
                  ****
Intro 3- first part x3, then 2nd once
------------|-----------|
------------|-----------|
------------|-----------|
-6-2-3-2-32-|-2222-2222-|
-6-2-3-2-32-|-2222-2222-|
-6-2-3-2-32-|-2222-2222-|
 
Verse
--------|
--------|
--------|
-2-2~-
-2-3~-
-2-3~-
 
Chorus
----------------|
----------------|
----------------|
-32232232232232-
-32232232232232-
-32232232232232-
 
Post Chorus is Intro 3.
 
Interlude- first part x3, then 2nd part once.
-----------|-----------|
-----------|-----------|
-----------|-----------|
-3333-2222-|-3333-331~-|
-3333-2222-|-3333-331~-|
-3333-2222-|-3333-331~-|





New plague, getting paid, everyone is guilty
Taxes on the lotto, water's gotten filthy
Psychos, weirdos, percocet and morphine
Little imperfections cost us all, cost us all
I saw a missile filled with frightened people
Crashing down, into a ball of flames
Something tells me it's almost over
Someone tell them it's almost over
Slave camps, last dance, billion dollar mishaps
Bombshells, nitro, anything that you can throw
Housewives, onion rings, AOL and crashing planes
Second rate therapy, everybodies crazy
I saw a black cloud above the forest
Wiping clean till nothing else remained
Something tells me it's almost over
Somone tell them it's almost over
Makes me sick to know that it's your fault
Makes me sick to makes that it's you
Makes me sick to know that it's your fault
Makes me sick and it makes me ill
Makes me sick to know that it's your fault
Makes me sick to makes that it's you
Makes me sick to know that it's your fault
Makes me sick and it makes me ill
Monstrous, what we've become
Space waste
Brain dumb
Nostradomus prophecies
Welfare
Enemies!
Enemies!
Enemies






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