Maria McKee

✖

Тональность: ▼ 0 ▲

1 из 2

2 из 2

 

1 из 7

2 из 7

3 из 7

4 из 7

5 из 7

6 из 7

7 из 7

 

1 из 4

2 из 4

3 из 4

4 из 4

 

 

 

I can barely feel the sheets with all these crumbs down in my bed
How can I get to sleep with all this buzzin' in my head
Bm                                     Em
And who'd have ever thought I'd not complain about a mess
G                    D     G            D
Serves me right I guess, this is what I get
               Em
For eatin' crackers with my gin
             A              D    Dsus4   D   Dsus4   D
And drinkin' in my Sunday dress

D                                         G           D
The telephone is by the bottle which is always by my bed
            D                                 G                  D
From time to time I give it a rattle to make sure that it's not dead
        Bm                                Em
I will wait here for your call till I run out of cigarettes
   G                D            G          D
I love to play the part of the damsel in distress
          Em
Flickin' ashes in my coffee
          A             D    Dsus4   D   Dsus4   D
Drinkin' in my Sunday dress

      G
Well I've been on the road to this and I've been on the way to this
G
But who'da think it'd come to this
G                                 D            A
Don't let on you've seen me like this, like this

D                                    G             D
My old transistor's sounding just as twangy as a Fender
D                       G                    D
My radiator growls like Elvis after Sunday dinner
      Bm                               Em
I've drained my last tequila and I've thrown away the blender
       G                 D                    G             D
I've poured out all the wine, from now on nothing but the best
Em
Cognac and Patsy Cline
               A                D    Dsus4   D   Dsus4   D
While drinkin' in my Sunday dress

Gm    D

G
Well I've been on the road to this and I've been on the way to this
G
I surely ain't a hypocrite
G                               F#m    A
I've had my fun and now I must confess

D                                    G            D
Our reverend is a kingly soul, repents ‘em on a dime
D                                      G                 D
His bible is not inked in gold, he is not the cheatin' kind
    Bm                         Em
One Sunday after meetin' I was in the greetin' line
             G                  D
He said I've seen you from the altar
         G              D
Gulpin' down communion wine
         Em                               A              D
Just remember who's beside you when it's no business of mine

G    D   G    D