-----------------------
| F#m | C#m | |
| Lately, I've been cruel to my | baby |
| F#m | C#m | |
| She asks if I'm | hers and I only say | maybe |
| F#m | C#m | |
| Playing the | fool, who knows nothing a | bout love |
| F#m | A | Dm | E | |
| I act like I | doubt it, but I'm nothing with | out it |
| A | B | |
| If I should | leave you, darling you would | know |
| E | B | |
| That I'm | chasing the only game in | town |
| C#m | |
| That's | running itself right back into the ground |
| A | |
| And I | won't be too old, when the story is told |
| B | E | |
| Of a | man who was | wrong |
| 'Cause I know, you belong in the churchyard |
| Growing flowers, writing home on a postcard |
| And its ok to belong to the old times |
| Making crochet, tying knots in the clothesline |
| And if I should leave you, darling you would know |
| That I'm chasing the only game in town |
| That's running itself right back into the ground |
| And I won't be too old, when my story is told |
| Of a man who was wrong |
| 'Cause he barks like a hounddog in moonlight |
| Yes, he barks on and on, but he don't bite |
| 'Cause it don't pay to stand up to the uptight |
| It's the cowards that are fighting the good fight |
| If I should leave you, darling you would know |
| That on that day when I'm not around |
| I must be asleep like a stone in the ground |
| And I'll be a hundred years old when the story is told |
| Of a man who was wrong |
| Riff |
e|-------------------------------------------------| B|-------------------------------------------------| G|---------6-5-4-3-2-1~---------------6-5-4-3-2-1--| D|--4-----------------------4----------------------| A|----4-----------------------4-0-4----------------| E|-------------------------------------------------|
| When my soul breaks, and my heart stops it's beating |
| And my body lies wounded and bleeding |
| When the vulture starts in on its feeding |
| And all of my seconds stop their constant repeating |
| If I should leave you, where would I go |
| Theres only one other bed in this town |
| It sits like a tree in a hole in the ground |
| Ill be a hundred years gone, but the story goes on |
| Of a man who was wrong |
| Ill be a hundred years gone, but the story goes on |
| Of a man who was wrong |