Modern Baseball - The old gospel choir

^C There's a ^Gtombstone in the brush with your name on the front But I had no bucks to get "Here lies They-Ran-Outta-^CLuck" On the b^Gack of it

Ripping staggered holes all the way to my chest ^{C G} All the way to my chest But every tremble in your voice still echoe^Ams in my ears One^C good night of sleep per year

There's a to^Gmbstone in the brush with my name on the front But I had no g^Cuts to get "Here lies He-Ran-Outta-Luck" On the b^Gack of it Sharp as a tack, but in the sense that I'm not sma^Crt, just a prick ^GIn the fingers and the to^Ces of all of those who show interest in me And from where I'm ^Gstanding

It l^Amooks like I'm way l^Emong overdue ^AmI know what you meant when you sa^Emid "fuck you" B^Amreaking up never f^Emelt so cruel And n^Gow I'm tired And n^Cow I'm dead to me

Can we a^Gct like we never broke each o^Cthers' hearts? At least m^Gine, I don't know how you felt f^Crom the start Oh, that's v^Gile, oh, I'm cruel, oh, it's g^Cod damn mean I sure as h^Amell know one th^Cing

You s^Cure ain't dead to m^Ce