| G | D | C | D | |
| Bobby played his | guitar on the | hard side of | town |
| G | D | C | D | |
| Where it's hard for a | poor boy to find the | mon | ey. |
| G | D | C | D | |
| He had dedica | tion, he | had the heart and | soul. |
| C | D | G | |
| Somehow | knew he was born to | play. |
| G | D | C | D | |
| They said get a | real job sup | port your fami | ly |
| G | D | C | D | |
| Cause there's no | future on the | road your | takin' |
| G | D | C | D | |
| But he never | said a word, the | dreamer just kept | on |
| C | D | G | |
| Late at | night you could hear him | sing. |
| CHORUS |
| G | C | D | G | C | D | |
| I'm gonna | be somebod | y, | one of these | days I'm gonna | break |
| these |
| chains. |
| G | C | D | Em | C | |
| I'm gonna | be somebod | y, some | day, you can | bet your hard earned |
| D | G | |
| dollar I | will. |
| G | D | C | D | |
| Bobby played his | hometown, one | full moon August | night |
| G | D | C | D | |
| He heard a | voice out | in the front | row |
| G | D | C | D | |
| It's a sandy-haired | Texas boy with | same ole hungry | eyes |
| C | D | G | |
| Looked up at | Bobby and | said |
| CHORUS |
| You can bet your hard earned dollar I will. |