Jason Boland - Fences

^D2A single town ^Dcounty, a ^Chundred horse ^Gtown ^D2The rodeo ^Drides away, ^Cthen comes back ^Daround ^GThe fiddler was ^C/Bshorted tho he ^Cplayed ^GCherokee That’s a ^Cwarning for to a white boy ^Dlike me

^GAll I see ^C/Bnow are ^Cfences The ^Amcards turn a profit But their ^Dpeople are ^Ggone ^GThese old holes in the ^C/Bhighway Are so ^Cbrutal on ^Abones You ^Ddon’t dance with who ^D2brought you It’s a ^Dlonesome walk ^Ghome

^D2Can I catch a r^Dide sir, if you’re g^Coin’ this ^Gway ^D2I forgot what would ^Dall the ^CProtestants ^Dsay ^GShe was there for the ^C/Btakin’, there were ^Cpromises ^Gmade The ^Csmall pox and whiskey, were a mighty bad ^Dtrade

^GAll I see ^C/Bnow are ^Cfences The ^Amcards turn a profit But their ^Dpeople are ^Ggone ^GThese old holes in the ^C/Bhighway Are so ^Cbrutal on ^Abones You ^Ddon’t dance with who ^D2brought you It’s a ^Dlonesome walk ^Ghome

^DThe tables are turned into ^Cdried up ^Gremains ^CSince the storm from the east, blew across the ^DPlains

^GAll I see ^C/Bnow are ^Cfences The ^Amcasinos turn the profit But their ^Dpeople are ^Ggone ^GThese old holes in the ^C/Bhighway Are so ^Cbrutal on ^Abones You ^Ddon’t dance with who ^D2brought you It’s a ^Dlonesome walk ^Ghome You ^Ddon’t dance with who ^D2brought you It’s a ^Dlonesome walk ^Ghome