Tab Realm

Antonin Artaud by Bauhaus


 



                        Antonin Artaud









The basic Chords for this song are

F(I) 1-3-3-2-1-1   B 7-9-9-8-7-7   F(XIII) 13-15-15-14-13-13

I play the main riff something like this(I haven't the LP here)..
e|---13--13--------13\--7--7-----7/--|
B|---13-----13-----13\--7----7---7/--|
G|---14--------14--14\--8------8-8/--|    repeat adlib...
D|---15------------15\--9--------9/--|    / = slide up, \ = slide down
A|-----------------------------------|
E|-----------------------------------|

You play this for the intro, and the verses, but where you see the chords
Strum the chords something like down-up-down for each chord!


	The young man held a gun to the head of God,
	Stick this holy cow,
	Put the audience in action,
	Let the slaughtered take a bow

F(XIII)///	B///	F(I)///		B///
					{Repeat until lyrics start up again}

	The old mans words, white hot knives
	Slicing through worm butter
	The butter is the heart
	The rancid pealing soul
Chords:
For the next verse just Strum F(I) twice, pause and repeat.Listen to the album.

	Scratch pictures on asylum walls
	Broken nails and match sticks
	Hypodermic, hypodermic, hypodermic, red fix

Back to Riff...

	One mans poison is another mans meat
	one mans agony another mans treat
	Artaud lived with his neck placed properly in the noose
	Eyes black with pain, limbs in clamps(vamps) contorted
	The theatre and its double, the void and the aborted

For this outro, I think you alternately strum the B chord and strum deadend
strings, whilst the tempo increases...

	Those indians wank on his bones... (Repeat until end)







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The young man held a gun to the head of God
Stick this holy cow
Put the audience in action
Let the slaughtered take a bow
The old man's words, white hot knives
Slicing through warm butter
The butter is the heart
The rancid peeling soul

Scratch pictures on asylum walls
Broken nails and matchsticks
hypodermic hypodermic hypodermic
RED FIX

One man's poison another man's meat
One man's agony another man's treat
Artaud lived with his neck paced firmly in the noose
Eyes black with pain,
Limbs in cramps contorted
The theatre and its double
The void and the aborted

THOSE INDIANS WANK ON HIS BONES (repeat)






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