I Hate (live From The Borderline, London) Tab uke di Passenger

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

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And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
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la, la la la la, lala la la

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And it goes la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la, la la la 
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la, la la la la, lala la la

D   G   D   A X2

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

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



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