Intro
| A |
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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 |
| 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 |
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| 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
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| E | E | E | A |