Key: D
Introduction:
D G
He was more than just a decent man, best friend I ever had
D A G A
When you're shooting at a coffee can, a thirty eight don't kick that bad
G A D
But it kicks right through my bones every second of every day
G A
Clacking by like cobblestones under broken wheels
D G
And if the truth be known, I wasn't doing that well
D G A
I wasn't paying attention, I brought it on myself
G A D
And I blamed it on the gods that seemed to smile on everybody else
G A
I got so inside out, I didn't know what was real
G A Bm A G
My fields are empty now
A Bm
My ground won't take the plow
D G A Bm
It's washed down to gravel and stones
D G A D
It's only good for burying bones
D A G A
I took the pistol off the wall, somebody hollered, "Put it back
D G A
Sit down, dad, before you fall down, you got no earthly use for that"
G A D Bm
But I slipped out the kitchen door, saddled up the sway backed mule
G A
Cinched her tight and swung on board, rode off like a drunken fool
G A D
Rode right on off the world, just like it never mattered none
G A
There wasn't nothing but me and the hurt, and the biting cold, and the heft of that gun
G A D Bm
In the pocket of a sheepskin coat, moonlight in a madman's eye
G A
For the unfairness of it all, surely something had to die
G A Bm A G
My fields are empty now
A Bm
My ground won't take the plow
D G A Bm
It's washed down to gravel and stones
D G A D
It's only good for burying bones
D G
He came out in the lantern light, his face in the flash was the last I saw
D G A
Of the world when it was still right, I didn't watch it fall
G A D Bm
I knew I'd hit him good, twice in the chest without a thought
G A
Turned the mule towards the county seat, like I knew I ought
G A Bm A G
My fields are empty now
A Bm
My ground won't take the plow
D G A Bm
It's washed down to gravel and stones
D G A D
It's only good for burying bones
G A Bm A G
My fields are empty now
A Bm
My ground won't take the plow
D G A Bm
It's washed down to gravel and stones
D G A D
It's only good for burying bones
Instrumental
D A G A
Lola comes to visit, just nothing I can say
D G A
We sit here of an afternoon 'til it's time for her to go away
G A D Bm
She rides home on that same mule that brought me to this place
G A
Don't know how she even stands to look upon her daddy's face
D G
He was more than just a decent man, best friend I ever had
D A G A
When you're shooting at a coffee can, a thirty eight don't kick that bad