Sunday Morning Paper

F Bb F C F
F
Sunday morning paper said
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
F
Dream you wouldn't live forever
Dm                             C   Cmaj7 C7
Betcha never planned on gettin' old
F
Looked like you were born to lose
     F7
Your slicked back hair and your prison blues
Bb                                 F
Mother tried to keep you from that row
       C  Cmaj7 C7                    F
Lord I know,       it's just Rock 'n' Roll

F Bb F C F

         F
Well you showed up from the underground
F7
Bakersfield, Tulsa-town
   Bb                            F
An inch away from needin' crowd control
        C               F
Lord I know, Oh Lord I know!

Bb
Women, wine and Benzedrine
F
Out to break the Big Machine
Dm                               C
Gettin' off the low-down for the truth
Bb                            C
Fightin' at it fingernail and tooth

F
Somewhere between 10 and 2
F7
Someone's wishin' they were you
Bb                                F
Make a livin' off your highs and lows
        C                       F
Lord I know, it's just Rock 'n' Roll

F Bb F C F

Bb
Never one time did I ever
F
Dream you wouldn't live forever
Dm                               C
Betcha never planned on gettin' old
Bb
Bangin' on a baby grand
F
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

F
Sunday morning paper said
F7
"Rock 'n' Roll is surely dead!"
Bb                             F
I don't think I'll ever let it go
      C                        F
Even though it's just Rock 'n' Roll

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