Real (John Wesley)

http://www.jameswesleymusic.com/

Capo: 3


Intro: Bm  G  D  A  (twice)


G                                A            Bm      A
Five-hundred channels and there ain't much on tonight
   G                     A                          Bm A
But reality shows about some folk's so-called lives
 G                            A
A pretty girl cries 'cause she don't get a rose
    D         D/C#    A/B      A       G
But she'll find love next year on her own show
                  A
And they call that real


Chorus
Bm        G             D           A
Real is a hand you hold fifty-seven years
Bm        G            D              A
Real is a band of gold tremblin' with fear
         G
It's the first long tear down an old man's face,
A
 watchin' his angel slippin' away
   G                                  A
His heart's so broke, it's never gonna heal
           Bm     G   D   A
I call that real


G                               A            Bm      A
Where I live, housewives don't act like that
G                    A                          Bm A
And the survivors are farmers in John Deere hats
G                            A
Our amazin' race is beatin' the check
D           D/C#      A/B     A       G
Prayin' that the bank ain't ran it through yet


Chorus
Bm        G             D           A
Real, like too much rain fallin' from the sky
Bm        G             D           A
Real, like the drought that came around here last July
	G
It's the damn boll weevils and the market and the weeds,
        A
the prayer they're sayin' when they plant the seeds
	G				A
And the chance they take to bring us our next meal
           Bm      G    D     A
I call that real



Bm           G                     D            A
Real, like a job you lose 'cause it moves to Mexico
Bm     G                   D                A
Like a mama and a baby with no safe place to go
Bm     G                        D                  A
Like a little dream house with a big old foreclosed sign
Bm     G                        D                 A
Like a flag-draped coffin and a twenty-one gun goodbye
           Bm    G   D   A
I call that real
                Bm     G   D   A
Man, I call that real
               Bm     G   D   A
Oh, I call that real
Bm   G   D   A   Bm   G   D   A  Bm   G   D  A   Bm