Old 97's - This is the ballad

^GThis is the ballad drinking rye whiskey And ^Csleeping till 2 on a warm afternoon ^GTelling your journal how badly you miss me And ^Dyou can't believe I'll be ^Ccoming so ^Gsoon ^GThis is the ballad of anticipation ^CWaiting and waiting and waiting and then ^GFinally getting the one you've been wanting And ^Dguess what, it's time to start ^Cwaiting ag^Gain

^DThis is the ballad we ^Call must sing While we ^Gwait to find ^Dout what to^Cmorrow will ^Gbring

^GThis is the ballad of long conversations ^CHeavy with silence and shuddering breath ^GYour self-destruct in your voice all shaken ^DMy reservations are ^Call I have ^Gleft ^GThis is the ballad of trying to grow flowers So ^Clife will seem like it has meaning and stuff ^GFinding out all of those beautiful flowers Will ^Dnever be anywhere ^Cclose to e^Gnough

^DThis is the ballad we ^Call must sing While we ^Gwait to find ^Dout what to^Cmorrow will ^Gbring ^GWait to find ^Dout what to^Cmorrow will ^Gbring

^GThis is the ballad of drinking rye whiskey Dis^Ctilled in a barn that burned down around it ^GFind myself saying what I should be thinking Your ^Dfigure is flawless I'm ^Cso glad I ^Gfound it

^DThis is the ballad we ^Call must sing While we ^Gwait to find ^Dout what to^Cmorrow will ^Gbring ^GWait to find ^Dout what to^Cmorrow will ^Gbring I can't ^Gwait to find ^Dout what to^Cmorrow will ^Gbring!