| B | | You can tell the world, you never was my girl |
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| F# | | You can burn my clothes when I am | gone |
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Or you can tell your friends, just what a fool I’ve been |
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| B | | And laugh and joke about me on the | phone |
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You can tell my arms, go back on to the farm |
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| F# | | 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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| B | | They won’t be reaching out for you no | more |
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| | | B | | | But | don’t tell my heart |
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| | | F# | | | I just don’t think it’d under | stand |
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| | | B | | | He might blow up and kill this | man |
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| B | | You can tell your maw, I moved to Arkansas |
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| F# | | You can tell your dog that bite my | leg |
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Or tell your brother Cliff, who’s fist can tell my lip |
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| B | | He never really liked me any | way |
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| B | | Go tell your aunt Louise, tell anything you please |
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| F# | | Myself already knows I’m not o | kay |
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Or you can tell my eye, to watch out for my mind |
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| B | | It might be walkin’ out on me to | day |
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| | | B | | | But | don’t tell my heart |
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| | | F# | | | I just don’t think it’d under | stand |
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| | | B | | | He might blow up and kill this | man |
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| | | B | | | But | don’t tell my heart |
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| | | F# | | | I just don’t think it’d under | stand |
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| | | B | | | He might blow up and kill this | man |
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| | | B | | | But | don’t tell my heart |
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| | | F# | | | I just don’t think it’d under | stand |
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| | | B | | | He might blow up and kill this | man |
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