Artist: Tom Russell
[INTRO]
[G]
[VERSE 1]
I had a gun pointed at my head on several occasions
[G]Yeah, Nadine I was scared
Something about a black man with a machine gun
[G]Make you wish you said your prayers
It was Ni[C]geria
The year was Nineteen[G] Sixty-Nine
I was [D]teaching criminology
Played a little guitar on the [G]side
[VERSE 2]
In Apache Pass, Prince Rupert
[G]Indian Jack puts a gun to my head
He said, "How do you like it now gentlemen?
[G]How’s your blue eyed boy, Mr Dead?"
It was [C]Canada this time
The year was Nineteen[G] Seventy-One
I was [D]performing at the Club Zanzibar
In the neon world of knives and [G]guns
[CHORUS]
Oh, ex[Em]cuse me if I’m boring you, dear listener
Accept my humble[G] apology
You may think I[Am]’m just a folk singer, no
I’m a [D]master in the art of crimi[G]nology
[VERSE 3]
When Picasso died, the Indians cried
[G]In a Prince George motel room
We were drunker than a thousand white men
[G]Playing lumber camp saloon
It was [C]Canada again
The year was Nineteen[G] Seventy-Three
There were [D]grizzly bears walking down main street
What an amazing sight to [G]see
[VERSE 4]
Well, the devil rides a cubist horse
[G]The devil he’s got angles
But god is an expressionist
[G]He got the devil strangled
Down in [C]purgatorian limbo in hell
Ahh, them southern rip joints just like [G]that
God’s [D]waiting room is full of painters and poets
And old black jazz saints in pork pie [G]hats
[CHORUS]
Well, ex[Em]cuse me if I’m boring you, dear listener
Accept my humble a[G]pology
You may think I[Am]’m some jive folk singer, no
I’m a [D]master in the art of crimi[G]nology
[INSTRUMENTAL]
[G] [C] [G] [D] [G]
[VERSE 5]
So, I got off a plane in Nigeria
[G]It was Nineteen Sixty-Nine
Arrested by Ton Ton Macoute
[G]Taking photos was a war zone crime
They were gonna [C]hack me up with machetes
A US ambassador, come home, paid my [G]bribe
So, I played gui[D]tar with Victor Uwaifo
Taught a little criminology on the [G]side
[CHORUS]
Yeah, that’s my [Em]story and I’m sticking to it
No regrets, no surrender, no a[G]pology
I know a [Am]little bit about a lot of things
I’m a [D]master in the art of crimi[G]nology
[CHORUS]
Yeah, that’s my [Em]story and I’m sticking to it
No regrets, no surrender, no a[G]pology
I know a [Am]little bit about a lot of things
I’m a [D]master in the art of crimi[G]nology
[OUTRO]
[G]Criminology
[G]Criminology
[G]Criminology
[G]
[VERSE 1]
I had a gun pointed at my head on several occasions
[G]Yeah, Nadine I was scared
Something about a black man with a machine gun
[G]Make you wish you said your prayers
It was Ni[C]geria
The year was Nineteen[G] Sixty-Nine
I was [D]teaching criminology
Played a little guitar on the [G]side
[VERSE 2]
In Apache Pass, Prince Rupert
[G]Indian Jack puts a gun to my head
He said, "How do you like it now gentlemen?
[G]How’s your blue eyed boy, Mr Dead?"
It was [C]Canada this time
The year was Nineteen[G] Seventy-One
I was [D]performing at the Club Zanzibar
In the neon world of knives and [G]guns
[CHORUS]
Oh, ex[Em]cuse me if I’m boring you, dear listener
Accept my humble[G] apology
You may think I[Am]’m just a folk singer, no
I’m a [D]master in the art of crimi[G]nology
[VERSE 3]
When Picasso died, the Indians cried
[G]In a Prince George motel room
We were drunker than a thousand white men
[G]Playing lumber camp saloon
It was [C]Canada again
The year was Nineteen[G] Seventy-Three
There were [D]grizzly bears walking down main street
What an amazing sight to [G]see
[VERSE 4]
Well, the devil rides a cubist horse
[G]The devil he’s got angles
But god is an expressionist
[G]He got the devil strangled
Down in [C]purgatorian limbo in hell
Ahh, them southern rip joints just like [G]that
God’s [D]waiting room is full of painters and poets
And old black jazz saints in pork pie [G]hats
[CHORUS]
Well, ex[Em]cuse me if I’m boring you, dear listener
Accept my humble a[G]pology
You may think I[Am]’m some jive folk singer, no
I’m a [D]master in the art of crimi[G]nology
[INSTRUMENTAL]
[G] [C] [G] [D] [G]
[VERSE 5]
So, I got off a plane in Nigeria
[G]It was Nineteen Sixty-Nine
Arrested by Ton Ton Macoute
[G]Taking photos was a war zone crime
They were gonna [C]hack me up with machetes
A US ambassador, come home, paid my [G]bribe
So, I played gui[D]tar with Victor Uwaifo
Taught a little criminology on the [G]side
[CHORUS]
Yeah, that’s my [Em]story and I’m sticking to it
No regrets, no surrender, no a[G]pology
I know a [Am]little bit about a lot of things
I’m a [D]master in the art of crimi[G]nology
[CHORUS]
Yeah, that’s my [Em]story and I’m sticking to it
No regrets, no surrender, no a[G]pology
I know a [Am]little bit about a lot of things
I’m a [D]master in the art of crimi[G]nology
[OUTRO]
[G]Criminology
[G]Criminology
[G]Criminology
Used chords
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