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Every Time I Turn The Radio On chords

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C                                   F
Every time I turn the radio on some cat's singing a happy song

        C                                              G7
About a woman who wakes him up every morning and loves him

C
Scrambles his eggs and unscrambles his life
 
F
Butters his toast with a golden knife

          C                    G7         C
Bears his kids and nearly bout all of his burdens

 
                                         F
And I just sit there staring at the wall wondering how I missed it all

     C                                       G7
I've been out half of the night and I'm hung over

C
Nobody woke me rubbing my feet
 
F
Just the sound of a jackhammer out in the street

             C                    G7       C
And this ole room ain't exactly a field of clover

 
                             F                                 C
Am I the only tavern-hopping beer-can-popping fool left in the world

                             F                         C
Am I the only sad-and-lonely meek-weak-freak without a girl

                                 F
No one to love and make me happy call me baby or call me pappy

G7
Am I the only low-and-lonely woman-needing jukebox-feeding

                                   C
Suffering son of a gun left in the world

 
                                    F
Every time I turn the radio on some cat's singing a happy song

      C                                         G7
About the woman who serves him love on a silver platter

C
Makes his coffee sweet and warm 

F
Holds him in her loving arms

              C                   G7         C
I look in the mirror and I wonder what's the matter


                             F                                 C
Am I the only tavern-hopping beer-can-popping fool left in the world

                             F                         C
Am I the only sad-and-lonely meek-weak-freak without a girl

                                 F
No one to love and make me happy call me baby or call me pappy

G7
Am I the only low-and-lonely woman-needing jukebox-feeding

                                   C
Suffering son of a gun left in the world
 

            
            
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