Becoming The Lastnames Chord Willwood

Capo 0 with [D] [G] [Em] [A] [Bm] [Gm]


VERSE
Don’t take the following words as reverence for tradition
I’ve learned to pick my battles by losing most I’ve fought
The more mores subverted, the more I sense I’m missing
And I’ll always do it my way, even if it’s just the same way I was taught
I’ll bring home the bread, and you’ll stay home and bake it
Weeding out the garden where the milestones gather moss
Crack a smile at my vows and whisper, “wow, can you believe we really made it?”
As I give up on dodging rice and fold my cape, I say “obviously not.”

CHORUS
But I want to be just like my parents before I was born
Oh, can we be just like my parents? Mmh

VERSE
I know you don’t want kids, but think about a daughter
We could name her Gwendolyn, like mom would’ve called me
I’m not sure yet myself, but I learned from a good father
Yeah, I mean, sure, they messed me up, but I think that’s just the gig
And maybe it’s just some hormones that kick in in your late twenties
But I have laid a lot of women, now I’d like to just lay down
And marriage always scared me, but I’d like to have a last love
And love can last a pretty good long while. I’ve seen it around

CHORUS
Oh, can we be just like my parents when I was young?
Why can’t we be just like my parents? Mmh

BRIDGE
….
So tongue out of my cheek now, I’m done pulling faces
Iconoclasm wanes, my cynicism tires.
But what do I know about forever, when so far I’ve been so fleeting?
Babe, my frontal lobe’s done growing, this might just be how I’m wired.
But now we’re kissing before brushing, smile with our whole faces
If you want a hyphen last name I guess I don’t mind the cadence
I’ve seen home videos, I was there back in the 80’s
And if I’m just them, and they back then could do it, why can’t I?…..

CHORUS
Just like my parents in due time
Imagine me, just like my parents. Yeah, right!

OUTRO
‘Cause I’ve made more mistakes than simple empty moments. Uohhh
Each one as out of character as you know I tend to be
There’ll be scalpers at the cemetery gates, with all my would-be widows weeping. Ohh
I’d have forgotten all their names, so why should you remember me?
If we grow old together, will you talk to my headstone?
That is assuming that I die first (which is fair), and assuming I don’t leave
Close enough to forever, I guess, to prove what I hope
I mean, otherwise how am I to believe?