Turnpike Troubadours - Sunday morning paper

^FSunday morning paper said ^F7"Rock 'n' Roll is surely dead!" ^BbSomethin' hit me deep down in my ^Fsoul Lord I ^Ckno^Cmaj7w, ^C7 it's just Rock 'n' ^FRoll

^BbNever one time did I ever ^FDream you wouldn't live forever ^DmBetcha never planned on gettin'^C old^{Cmaj7 C7 F}Looked like you were born to lose Your ^F7slicked back hair and your prison blues ^BbMother tried to keep you from that ^Frow Lord I ^Ckno^Cmaj7w, ^C7 it's just Rock 'n' ^FRoll

Well you ^Fshowed up from the underground ^F7Bakersfield, Tulsa-town An ^Bbinch away from needin' crowd c^Fontrol Lord I k^Cnow, Oh Lord I k^Fnow!

^BbWomen, wine and Benzedrine ^FOut to break the Big Machine ^DmGettin' off the low-down for the ^Ctruth ^BbFightin' at it fingernail and ^Ctooth

^FSomewhere between 10 and 2 ^F7Someone's wishin' they were you ^BbMake a livin' off your highs and l^Fows Lord I k^Cnow, it's just Rock 'n' ^FRoll

^BbNever one time did I ever ^FDream you wouldn't live forever ^DmBetcha never planned on gettin' o^Cld ^BbBangin' on a baby grand ^FPlay that thing to beat the band ^DmScreamin' out for everything you're ^Cworth Well you ^Bbdressed up like the greatest show on ^CEarth

^FSunday morning paper said ^F7"Rock 'n' Roll is surely dead!" ^BbI don't think I'll ever let it ^Fgo Even t^Chough it's just Rock 'n' ^FRoll