Tim McGraw - Number 37405

Oh, he ^Elistens to the countdown, ^C#mevery Sunday morning From a ^Acold solitary prison ^Ecell ^EAnd the music from his radio is like ^C#mfreedom down a dirt toad ^AMakes that eight by ten a brighter ^Bhill

^BBefore he started doing all the ^Ahard time that he's doing He was ^Esinging in them ^Emaj7honky-tonks and ^C#mdives He ^Edreamed of being somebody, now he's^B number 3740^E5

Well she ^Eused to come and see him, every ^C#mother weekend And ^Abring him all the news from way back ^Ehome It's been two ^Ebirthdays since he's kissed her, Five ^C#mseconds since he's missed her Now the ^Aperfume on those letters ain't that ^Bstrong

^BHe's got too much time to think about the ^Anight he had too much to drink And all his ^Ebuddies, they ^Emaj7begged him not to ^C#mdrive Mr. ^ELife of the Party, he's now^B number 3740^A5

^EOld judge on the bench said, "Son, ^C#myour crime's got consequences." It's ^Awhat he told him, fifteen years ^Eago He took a ^Elife and that's a fact, he'd give his ^C#mown to give it back ^AToday's the day he finally gets ^Bparole He ^Bturns in them prison clothes, and ^Astands there at the fork in the road And ^Emama prays and ^Emaj7waits while he ^C#mdecides And the angels close their ^Beyes... ^EListens to the birds sing on a ^C#mperfect autumn morning Just ^Adown the road, rings an old church ^Ebell