G    Em    C  Cm


[Verse 1]

G                                Em
   We're the band with our own label
                         C           Cm           G
That's money under the table, that's answering to no one
                          Em
still, bands just love to hate us
                 C          Cm             G
Talking shit behind us, but smiling to our face


[Verse 2]

        Bb                          Gm
That's OK, it's not that they don't like us
                      Eb       Ebm
They're just a little jealous, cause
                  Bb
we're having more fun
(the band that wouldn't die)
                                Gm                 Eb
We're the self-crowned kings of candor, sultans of slander
   Ebm          Bb
Bastions of D.I.Y.


[Verse 3]
C                           F                           Bb
   Which means we make more money, we've got better prescriptions
                    Gm                               C
We own most our own music, no one's got hands in our pockets
                 F                        Bb
We don't have management, we get to play loaded
           Gm
and only 3 months a year
                    C                        F
Some years we just take off, vacations are a write off,
                Bb
and so is goin' out (fuck us)
          Gm
I suppose that's how we'll go out,
       Eb      Ebm           Bb
played out and way after our time

Gm        Eb   Ebm
Gm