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Sleep Of The Just by the Fatima Mansions

From the Fatima Mansions’ 1994 Popemobile single. Written by Cathal Coughlan.

High Llamas - Snowbug




[C#] Lift up your head, lift up your [B6] head
Your [B6] room in this decade of earthquake and bile
A [A6] waits you like a stewardess’s [C#] mortuary smile


You’ll [C#] miss all the fun, you’ll miss all the [B6] fun
A [B6] rich man turned pauper, his death marked a sham
I [A6] can’t get back to see it ’til [Ab7] you lift up your [C#] head



[C#] Me and mine are fools, me and mine are [B6] fools
Say our [B6] elders who despise us, though we’re no longer young
They’re [A6] tired of our sneering and we’ve [D] blocked [A] out their [E] main [B] street’s [A7] sun


[Cm] They’re sleeping as we rise, one punch is drunk with pride
[Cm] Resides in brutal face, sick from petrol smoke and steak

[Cm] The few Bohemians with their too-white shopping wrists
[Cm] Confide in some crimson page and pray to look cute in their squalor-dyed hair
Old [C#] age


[C#] Rolled out of here is sun bright and [B6] near
And [B6] we hold the fortune in our cumulus
There’s [A6] nothing else on earth that I [C#] will be part of


[C#] Why waste a lifetime on soil which won’t bear fruit?
And why argue with gangsters who only [B6] smile and act mute?
If [B6] he pulls that trigger, as he says he must
Then to [A6] them goes the last word and to [Ab7] you
The sleep of the [C#] just
The sleep of the [C#] just
The sleep of the [C#] just



But that’s never enough
But that’s never, never enough