Intro
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You can tell the world, you never was my girl |
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You can burn my clothes, when I’m | gone |
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Or | you can tell your friends, just what a fool I’ve been |
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And laugh and joke about me on the | phone |
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You can tell my arms, go back into the farm |
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You can tell my feet to hit the | floor |
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Or | you can tell my lips, to tell my fingertips |
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They won’t be reaching out for you no | more |
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But d | on’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart |
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I just don’t think he’d under | stand |
E | |
And | if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart |
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He might blow up and kill this | man, oooh |
A | A | A | E |
E | E | E | A |
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You can tell your maw, I moved to Arkansas |
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You can tell your dog to bite my | leg |
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Or | tell your brother Cliff, whose fist can tell my lip |
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He never really liked me any | way |
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Go | tell your aunt Louise, tell anything you please |
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Myself already knows I’m not o | kay |
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Or | you can tell my eye, watch out for my mind |
A | |
It might be walkin’ out on me to | day |
A | |
But d | on’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart |
E | |
I just don’t think he’d under | stand |
E | |
And | if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart |
A | |
He might blow up and kill this | man, oooh |
A | A | A | E |
E | E | E | A |
A |
Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart |
E | |
I just don’t think he’d under | stand |
E | |
And | if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart |
A | |
He might blow up and kill this | man |
Let ring
A |
Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart |
E | |
I just don’t think he’d under | stand |
E | |
And | if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart |
A | |
He might blow up and kill this | man, oooh |
Band back in
A | A | A | E |
E | E | E | A |