Greg Smith - Get back to you

^GI am a rancher, and my ^Croad goes to the hills. ^GGolden fields of pos^Csibilities I si^Gng to the herd, they’ve come^C to see me play,^G So I sing them all a song of wh^Cat I see I ^Emsee pastures, and fence lines, and pil^Ces of burning brush, I s^Emee hawks playing tag above the ^Ctrees Th^Emis open range is home, but still it’s ^Ckinda strange, That you’re no^Emt here, riding it w^Cith me ^D

I ^Gam a singer, and I sing my songs of you, I see your faces out along the road From the shopping malls, and concert halls, and all the county fairs ^GThey all run together, the further out I go I look out at the people, who’ve come to see me play, sometimes they wait for hours in the rain ^GI can’t disappoint them, they’ve put their trust in me And so I’ll sing my love songs once again, and again…

It’^Ems the little voice^C inside my head, that grows^G louder every ^Dday I’m only living h^Emalf my life, here on my^C own ^G So as th^Eme road goes on and ^Con and takes us where^G we gotta be, I k^Emnow someh^Aow I gotta fin^Dd a way… It’s the little v^Emoice inside my ^Chead that grows louder every day^G, ^D I’m only living ^Emhalf my life, he^Cre on my own, as^G the road goes o^Emn and on, and ta^Ckes us where we ^Ggott^Ema be I kno^Aw somehow, I gotta find a w^Day, to get back home to you ^{G C} to get back home to yo^Gu,^C to get ^Dback home to you^G