Misc Originals – Charlie Hueber - Foot (Guitar)

C
Well, I stumble through conversations, like a dance in worn-out shoes,

C
My words get tangled up, like a lonesome country blues.

Am                         F                          C
Every time I open my mouth, it's a tangled, twisted maze,

Am                            F                          C
Seems like my tongue's, convinced that foot is an acquired taste.

   G                              Am
I say the wrong things, like a stray wind through the pines,

G                               Am
Lost in translation, like a trail that never winds.

C
My heart's in the right place, but my words just go to waste,

Am*                    F*                            C*
In this world where apologies, well, my foot is an acquired taste.

C
I'm a cowboy in a conversation, riding words like wild horses,

C
But somehow they buck me off, steer me off course, of course.

Am                               F                  C
I stumble through apologies, like a tumbleweed Set ablaze,

Am                               F                       C
In this lonesome language, you see, my foot is an acquired taste.

G                              Am
I say the wrong things, like a lonesome coyote's howl,

G                              Am
Lost in the translation, like footprints in the prowl.

C
My heart's in the right place, but my words just go to waste,

Am*                    F*                            C*
In this world where apologies, well, my foot is an acquired taste.

C
I'm a poet in a pick-up truck, with a melody to share,

C
But when I sing my song, it's like I'm walking on thin air.

Am                         F                          C
I'll find my way eventually, through this, tangled verbal race,

Am                    F                            C*
In every one of my songs, it seems, my foot is an acquired taste.

G                              Am
I say the wrong things, like a river that overflows,

G                              Am
Lost in the translation, like a wind that never slows.

Am*                    F*                            C*
My heart's in the right place, but my words just go to waste,

Am*                    F*                            C*
In this world where redemption, well, my foot is an acquired taste.