Chords
Accidental Racist

Key: G

Introduction:  G   D   C   G   D  

difficulty
easy |||||
 G                                                                     D                                                 C                         G       D 
To the man that waited on me at the Starbucks down on Main, I hope you understand
           G                                                             D                                             C                         G 
When I put on that t-shirt, the only thing I meant to say is I'm a Skynyrd fan
         C                           Em                                                 D 
The red flag on my chest somehow is like the elephant in the corner of the south
 G                         D                                           C 
    And I just walked him right in the room
               C                                               Em 
Just a proud rebel son with an 'ol can of worms
 D                                                                     G                                           C 
    Lookin' like I got a lot to learn,   but from my point of view
                       G                                                               D 
I'm just a white man comin' to you from the southland
                     C                                                 G           D 
Tryin' to understand what it's like not to be
                           G                                                     Bm 
I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done
               C                                                                   G         D 
And it ain't like you and me can re-write history
                   Em                                           D 
Our generation didn't start this nation
                         G                                                                                       C 
We're still pickin' up the pieces, walkin' on eggshells, fightin' over yesterday
         G                                             C       D                                 G 
And caught between southern pride and the southern blame
 G                                                                               D 
They called it Reconstruction, fixed the buildings, dried some tears
                         C                                                                   G                         D 
We're still siftin' through the rubble after a hundred-fifty years
                   G                                                                         D 
I try to put myself in your shoes and that's a good place to begin
               C                                                             G                           D 
But it ain't like I can walk a mile in someone else's skin
                           G                                             D 
'Cause I'm a white man livin' in the southland
                     C                                                   G  D 
Just like you I'm more than what you see
                           G                                                     Bm 
I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done
               C                                                                   G         D 
And it ain't like you and me can re-write history
                 Em                                             D 
Our generation didn't start this nation
                                 G 
And we're still paying for mistakes
                                                       C 
That a bunch of folks made long before we came
                       G                                                   C       D                         G 
And caught somewhere between southern pride and southern blame
(verse-rap)
                 C                 G                                                               D 
Now my chains are gold but I'm still misunderstood
I wasn't there when Sherman's March turned the south into firewood
 C                                                                 G 
    I want you to get paid but be a slave I never could
         D 
Feel like a new fangled Django, dodgin' invisible white hoods
                     Am 
So when I see that white cowboy hat, I'm thinkin' it's not all good
I guess we're both guilty of judgin' the cover not the book
         C 
I'd love to buy you a beer, conversate and clear the air
But I see that red flag and I think you wish I wasn't here
                       G                                                                         D 
I'm just a white man,         Comin' to you from the southland
                                          (If you don't judge my do-rag)
                                                                               C                                                 G           D 
                                                          Tryin' to understand what it's like not to be
(I won't judge your red flag)                                                                   (yeah)
                           G 
I'm proud of where I'm from
                              (If you don't judge my gold chains)
                 Bm 
But not everything we've done
                            (I'll forget the iron chains)
       C                                                                   G         D 
it ain't like you and me can re-write history
                                                                                            (Can't re-write history baby)
 G 
Oh, Dixieland
                            (The relationship between the Mason-Dixon needs some fixin')
     D                                                                         C 
I hope you understand, what this is all about
(Quite frankly I'm a black Yankee but I've been thinkin' about this lately)
 C 
I'm a son of the new south
                                                      (The past is the past, you feel me)
                       Am           G                     C 
And I just want to make things right
                                                                          (Let bygones be bygones)
                                   Am           G               C 
Where all that's left is southern pride
 G 
    (RIP Robert E. Lee but I've gotta thank Abraham Lincoln for freeing me, know what I mean)
(It's real, it's real It's truth)