I Hate (live From The Borderline, London) Tabulatur von Passenger

D                            G
Well, I hate racist blokes, telling tasteless jokes,
        D                      A
And explaining where people belong.
       D                        G                      
I hate ignorant folks, who pay money to see gigs,
     A                              D
And talk through everything fucking song.
       Bm                    G
I hate people in nightclubs, snorting coke,
        D                         A
And explaining where you're going wrong.
              Bm         G
Well, if you agree, come hating with me,
     A                 D
And feel free to sing along.

            G            D            A            D            G          
And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
D            A   
la, la la la la, lala la la

            G            D            A            D            G          
And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
D            A   
la, la la la la, lala la la

D   G   D   A X2

            D               G
And I hate pointless status updates on Facebook,
D                    A
'FYI', we were never m8s.
       D                        G
We pretend to be friends on the internet,
       D                             A
Yet in real life we have nothing to say,
         Bm                      G
To each other. Oh, brother, I've love for my mother,
    D                             A
For good times, for music and my mates.
        Bm                     G
Yeah, I love and I live, and I have love to give,
         A                      D
But sometimes, all you can do is hate.

            G            D            A            D            G          
And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
D            A   
la, la la la la, lala la la

            G            D            A            D            G          
And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
D            A   
la, la la la la, lala la la

D   G   D   A 

  Bm                          G
I hate them fussy eaters, you cook them fajitas,
     D                  A
They only eat pizza and chips.
   Bm                         G
I hate stepping outside for a smoke, and some guy coughs,
      D              A
Like your lungs are his.
      Bm                   G
And I hate queuing up for festival toilets,
   D                       A   
Especially when you need a shit.
  Bm                     G
I hate the X-factor, for murdering music,
    A                       D
You bunch of money grabbing pricks.

            G            D            A            D            G          
And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
D            A   
la, la la la la, lala la la

D   G   D   A X2



      D                             G
And I hate them magazines, aimed at insecure teens,
     D                               A
They make ten year olds race to grow up.
     A                          G           D                        A
"Hey kids lets be anoerxic", or better, eat chocolate 'til you throw up.
          Bm                         G
Keep your Hollywood stars, in their stupid cars,
        D                            A
And the botox, that makes them look fucked.
          D                        G
Just grow old with grace, have you seen Cher's face?
   A                             D
It looks like it's been hit by a truck.

            G            D            A            D            G          
And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
D            A   
la, la la la la, lala la la

            G            D            A            D            G          
And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
D            A   
la, la la la la, lala la la