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            A l m i g h t y   M a l a c h i ,   P r o f e s s i o n a l
                              B o w l i n g   G o d
                          ( R A D I O   V E R S I O N )
                            S T E P H E N   L Y N C H
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   +--------------------------PLEASE NOTE--------------------------+
   + This file is Jordan Lapping?s own work and represents his     +
   + interpretation of the song. You may only use this file for    +
   + private study, scholarship, or research. The contents may not +
   + be duplicated for use with other websites without written     +
   + permission. Thank you for understanding. Enjoy.               +
   +---------------------------------------------------------------+


Tabbed by Jordan Lapping

Standard E Tuning, Capo 1st Fret [All chords relative to Capo]


 CHORDS USED:
    A    C    D    E    G  Gmaj9
e]--0----0----2----0----3----3--|
B]--2----1----3----0----0----0--|
G]--2----0----2----1----0----0--|
D]--2----2----0----2----0----0--|
A]--0----3---------2----2----0--|
E]-----------------0----3----2--|



 INTRO:
  B - G (x4)


 VERSE 1:
   B    G   B        G      B    G    B    G
  Yooouuuu watch me on your T.V.
   B  G      B      G      B    G    B    G
  Saaaying that my job is easy
   B  G    B     G      B      G    B    G
  Saaaying I am not athletic
   B    G      B      G         B    G    B    G   Gmaj9
  Yooouuuu think my sport's pathetic
E                                                             B    G
  But you can't judge me 'till you walked a mile in my bowling shoes


 INTERLUDE:
  B - G (x3)


 VERSE 2:
   B    G     B         G       B    G    B    G
  Sooooooo I don't get all the ladies
   B    G       B           G       B    G    B    G
  Aaaannnd my clothes are from the '80s
  B    G     B           G       B      G    B    G   Gmaj9
  I'mmmmmm known throughout the vallies
E 
  As the prophet of the alleys


 CHORUS 1:
A           E        C      A            E       C      A
  And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
         E      C    G       D       A
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling God
                E     C       A                E       C        A
  The smell of resin gets my high, kiss those fucking pins goodbye!
         E      C    G       D                       B    G
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling, the Bowling... God


 INTERLUDE:
  B - G (x3)


 VERSE 3:
   B    G     B            G         B    G    B    G
  Goooooot a ball that's smooth and all black
     B    G     B      G     B        G    B    G
  I keeeeeep it in my lucky ball-sack
     B    G     B       G     B    G    B    G   Gmaj9
  I geeeeeet a feeling in my soul
E 
  As I finger every hole...


 CHORUS 2:
A           E        C      A            E       C      A
  And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
         E      C    G       D       A
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling God
                E     C       A                E       C        A
  The smell of resin gets my high, kiss those fucking pins goodbye!
         E      C    G       D
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling, the Bowling...


 BRIDGE:
   B            G               B             G
  Not a single man will try to beat Almighty Malachi
   B                 G           B                     G
  All who challenge me are slain - "Come on, fuckers, pick a lane!"
   B                G             B               G
  Marshall Holman, Gary Dickens; get in line for your ass kickins'
   B               G          B                 G
  John Petraglia, Norm Duke; you're so lame it makes me puke
   B              G              B                 G
  Who among the pro-bowl sector dares to don his wrist protector?
   B               G              B                  G
  Not that pussy, Nelson Burton; tells me that his wrist is hurtin'
    B                  G                          B                 G
  "Hey, Mark Roth and Earl 'The Pearl', are you scared to give the ball a hurl?"
        B                      G                   B                          G
  How about 'Dicky' Weber and his son, Pete? I'll turn the motherfuckers to cream of wheat!


 CHORUS 3:
A           E        C      A            E       C      A
  And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
         E      C    G       D       A
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling God
                E     C       A                E       C        A
  The smell of resin gets my high, kiss those fucking pins goodbye!
         E      C    G       D
  I'm Almighty Malachi, the Bowling, the Bowling...
               A  E  C   A  E  C    A  E  C   G    D            A
  The Bowling Gooooooooooooooood! Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaah! The Bowling... God



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