#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------#
#

DEPECHE MODE
USELESS by Martin Gore from Ultra, 1997
Transcription by PA Joachim Larsson, v94_lam@ce.kth.se   970419

Intro

 D#m            F#                   B
e---------------5--4--2-----------|--------------------5--4--2-----------2-----|
B---4--4--2--4-----------4--2--4--|--4-----4--4--2--4-----------4--2--4-----4--|
G---------------------------------|--------------------------------------------|
D---------------------------------|--------------------------------------------|
A---------------------------------|--------------------------------------------|
E---------------------------------|--------------------------------------------|

Verse

D#m    F#                 B           (Bb)
           Well it's about time
D#m    F#                 B             (Bb)
           It's beginning to hurt
D#m    F#                      B           (Bb)
           Time you made up your mind
D#m    F#                  B
           Just what is it all worth

Chorus

Bbm                 B
   All my useless advice
Bbm                B
   All my hanging around
Bbm                          B
   All your cutting down to size
C#                           B          Bbm
         All my bringing you down

Intro

( D#m, F#, B, (Bb) (
Watch the clock on the wall
Feel the slowing of time
Hear a voice in the hall
Echoing in my mind

( Bbm, B, Bbm, B, Bbm, B, C#, B, Bbm (
All your stupid ideals
You've got your head in the clouds
You should see how it feels
With your feet on the ground

( D#m, F#, B, (Bb) (
Here I stand the accused
With your fist in my face
Feeling tired and bruised
With the bitterest taste

( Bbm, B, Bbm, B, Bbm, B, C#, B, Bbm (
All my useless advice
All my hanging around
All your cutting down to size
All my bringing you down

( Bbm, B, Bbm, B, Bbm, B, C#, B, Bbm (
All your stupid ideals
You've got your head in the clouds
You should see how it feels
With your feet on the ground