Sinkhole - Drive-By Truckers

Sinkhole chords

Sinkhole 
By Drive-by Truckers

Drop D Tuning to get the right walk up/down sounds.

D                                        G
I’ve always been a religious man, I ‘ve always been a religious man 
      D                                       G                 D
But I met the banker and it felt like sin, he turned my bailout down 
    D                           G 
The Banker Man, he let into me, let into me, let into me 
    D                              G               D
The Banker Man, he let into me and spread my name around 
          D                                   G
He thinks I ain’t got a lick of sense cause I talk slow and my money’s spent 
D                                           G                  D
I ain’t the type to hold it against, but he better stay off my farm 
D                                            G               
Cause it was my Daddy’s and his Daddy’s before and his Daddy’s before and his Daddy’s before 
D                                           G                D 
Five generations and an unlocked door and a loaded burglar alarm. 


Lots of pictures of my purdy family, lots of pictures of my purdy family 
Lots of pictures of my purdy family in the house where I was born

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House has stood through five tornadoes, Droughts, floods, and five tornadoes
I’d rather wrastle an alligator than to face the Banker’s scorn 
Cause he won’t even look me in the eye, he just takes my land and apologize
With pen, paper, and a friendly smile, he says the deed is done
The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning, The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning 
The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning over what the Banker done


Bridge:
G                                                 D
Think I’ll invite him for some pot roast beef and mashed potatoes and sweet tea 
G                                           C
Follow it up with some banana pudding and a walk around the farm 


Show him the view from McGee Town Hill, let him stand in my shoes and see how it feels 
to lose the last thing on earth that’s real, I’d rather lose my legs and arms 
Bury his body in the old sink hole Bury his body in the old sink hole 
Bury his body in the old sink hole under cold November sky 
Then damned if I wouldn’t go to church on Sunday, damned if I wouldn’t go to church on Sunday 
Damned if I wouldn’t go to church on Sunday and look the Preacher in the eye.