Six of one a half a dozen
Black guitars and plastic blues
Hide behind a wall of nothing
Nothing said and nothing new

Four chords that made a million

You belong there on the cover
You are the emperor in new clothes
A man who thinks he owns the future
Will sell your vacuum with his prose

Four chords that made a million

And then a moron with a cheque book
Will take you out to lunch, who knows?
He will tell you you're a saviour
And then he'll drop you like a stone

Four chords that made a million

And I have tried and I have died
Trying to get through
But in the end I can't defend you.

Four chords that made a million

Copyright: Downtown Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): STEVEN JOHN WILSON