87 Southbound

        E                          
Well, I caught you with him on 
                E
those damn, slick, sticky satin 
sheets
       A                    B7    
Then I packed my things and then I
         E
 hit the streets


[Verse 1]
E                      B7
87 southbound to San Antone
 B7                                
You’ve got your baby, I got got no 
  E
home
E                              A
The pavements burning down at 102
A                E              
I don’t need to hear no more 
B7                      E
excuses that I don’t need you


[Verse 2]
E                              B7
Lord, the sun keeps beating me down
 B7                    E
And it’s hotter than hell
    B7                             
And if I’m lucky I’ll catch a ride 
    E
but you can never tell
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    A                              
I’d rather be here with the bugs 
             E
and flies than back there hearing 
your alibis
  B7
I heard all that I’m gonna hear you 
say
  B7                               
I’m gonna take my pride and go the 
        E
other way


[Instrumental]
E B7 E A E B7 E  x4


[Verse 3]
E                     B7
87 southbound to San Antone
 B7                                
It’s getting late out, I’m 40 miles
         E
 from home
E                             
The rain keeps falling like the 
              A
tears in my eyes
 A                  E             
I’m just trying to wash away all 
     B7                 E
the hurt from all your lies


[Verse 4]
E                  B7            
Lightning streaks across the 
     E
evening sky
    B7                             
And if I’m lucky I’ll make it big 
    E
or lay right down and die
A                                 
I know when the morning comes I’ll
  E
 still be a walking son of a gun
     B7
And afternoon comes rolling around
               B7               
I’ll have ten more miles and one 
       E
more town


[Verse 5]
E                     B7
87 southbound to San Antone
 B7                              
You’ve got your baby, I’ve got no 
    E
home
E                        A
The pavements burning at 92
                E              B7 
I don’t need to hear no more 
                    E
excuses and I don’t love you.
                E              B7 
I don’t need to hear no more 
                    E
excuses and I don’t love you.