Turnpike Troubadours – Sunday Morning Paper (Guitar)

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[tab]F7
"Rock 'n' Roll is surely dead!"

Bb                               F
Somethin' hit me deep down in my soul

       C  Cmaj7 C7                    F
Lord I know,       it's just Rock 'n' Roll

Bb
Never one time did I ever

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Dream you wouldn't live forever

Dm                             C   Cmaj7 C7
Betcha never planned on gettin' old

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Looked like you were born to lose

     F7
Your slicked back hair and your prison blues

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Mother tried to keep you from that row

       C  Cmaj7 C7                    F
Lord I know,       it's just Rock 'n' Roll

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Well you showed up from the underground

F7
Bakersfield, Tulsa-town

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An inch away from needin' crowd control

        C               F
Lord I know, Oh Lord I know!

Bb
Women, wine and Benzedrine

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Out to break the Big Machine

Dm                               C
Gettin' off the low-down for the truth

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Fightin' at it fingernail and tooth

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Somewhere between 10 and 2

F7
Someone's wishin' they were you

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Make a livin' off your highs and lows

        C                       F
Lord I know, it's just Rock 'n' Roll

Bb
Never one time did I ever

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Dream you wouldn't live forever

Dm                               C
Betcha never planned on gettin' old

Bb
Bangin' on a baby grand

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Play that thing to beat the band

Dm                                  C
Screamin' out for everything you're worth

         Bb                                   C
Well you dressed up like the greatest show on Earth

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Sunday morning paper said

F7
"Rock 'n' Roll is surely dead!"

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I don't think I'll ever let it go

      C                        F
Even though it's just Rock 'n' Roll