Tonalité : G major
Verse 1
G
So here's a letter to Zito.
Am
G
Am
C
G
Bb
G
Well, Zito, I hear them talking
Am
They're saying you're done
Got a rusted up gun
C
G
and hid in the locker room of her son.
Well, let me tell you a story
Am
from a long time ago
about a group of old boys
C
G
who just loved playing ball.
They called themselves the Wahoos
Am
and they'd roam town to town
Playin' their baseball
C
G
in any town that they found
They'd walk for miles,
Am
sometimes hop a train
Sleep under the stars,
C
G
dreamin' up the next game
When they'd wake in the morning,
Am
they'd shake off that dew
There come a whirlwind of ash wood
C
G
in every town they booked through
They had ground balls for breakfast,
Am
they had fly balls for lunch
They loved victory for dinner,
C
G
sometimes it weren't much
They answered to no man,
Am
they were free like the wind
They had each other's backs,
C
G
they were each other's kin
The only thing they lived for
Am
was just playing ball
Baseball, that's all it was,
C
G
their God -given call
So Zito, my brother,
Am
well this is your time
Fuck all those yahoos,
C
remember the wahoos
D
G
Em
C
Concedo, you'll be just fine
Am
Just fuck all those yahoos
Remember the wahoos
C
D
G
Em
C
Concedo, you'll be just fine
You'll be just fine
G
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