Stephen Lynch - Bowling Song - аккорды

[ Предположительная тональность: G ]

Almighty Malachi, Professional Bowling God CHORDS

TABBED BY: VOMBAT

Ok, so yesterday I was kinda shitfaced and was listening to some Stephen Lynch. As "The
Bowling Song" came on we all got mega pumped up. I decided to give it a try and so I
grabbed a guitar and started listening to it over and over again, trying to figure out
what chords are used in the song. Anyways, this is how I belive the song is beeing played.
Take Care!


VERSE:

[B5][G][B5]    [G]      [B5][G][B5][G] <---Follow this pattern through verse!
You    watch me on your TV.
Say that my job is easy.
Say I am not athletic.
You think my sport's pathetic.

[E]
But you can't judge me 'till you walked a mile in my bowling shoes.

So I don't get all the ladies.
Gotta mullet from the 80's
I am known throughout the valleys.
As the prophet of alleys.

CHORUS:

[Am]     [E]      [G]          [Am]   [E]
  [G]
And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
[Am][E]     [G]      [D]
I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling god.
[Am]     [E]      [G]
The smell of resin gets my high.
[Am]       [E]     [G]    [Am]
Kiss those fucking pins goodbye!
[Am][E]     [G]         [D]
I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling... the bowling...

[B5][G][B5][G]...etc.
GOD!!!!

Got a ball that's smooth and all black.
I keep it in my lucky ball sack.
I get a feeling in my soul.
As I finger every hole.

And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling god.
The smell of resin gets my high.
Kiss those motherfucking pins goodbye!
I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling... bowling...


(This part is played with only [B5] and [G] just like in the vese)

Not a single man will try, to beat Almighty Malachi.
All who challenge me are slain.
Come on, fuckers, pick a lane.
Marshall Holden, Gary Dickens, get in line for your ass kickins'.
John Patraglia, Norm Duke, your so lame it makes me puke.
Who among the pro-bowl sector.
Dares to don his wrist protector.
Not that pussy Nelson Burton, tells me that his wrist is hurtin'.
Hey my prophet, Earl the Pearl, are ya' scared to give the ball a hurl?
How bout' Dicky Weber and his son Pete? I'll turn the motherfuckers to cream of wheat!

And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling god.
The smell of resin gets my high.
Kiss those fucking pins goodbye!
I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling... bowling god!!
Yeaaaaaaah!
The bowling god!