Six of one and half a dozen
Black guitars and plastic blues
Hide behind a wall of nothing
Nothing said and nothing newFour chords that made a million
Four chords that made a million, million, millionYou 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 proseFour chords that made a million
Four chords that made a million, million, million
Four chords that made a million, million, millionAnd 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 stoneFour chords that made a million
Four chords that made a million, million, million
Four chords that made a million, million, millionAnd I have tried and I have died
Trying to get through
But in the end, I can't defend youFour chords that made a million
Four chords that made a million, million, million
Four chords that made a million, million, million
Four chords that made a million, million, million