Chords for Willi Carlisle | "Van Life" | Western AF

Well, here's one dedicated to everybody who's had to live between four wheels instead of four walls.
If it ain't je ne sais quoi, I don't know what is, must be the van life.
_ Well, [Bm] _ _ _ [C] _ _ _ _ _
[D] _ _ _ _ [G] _ _ _ _
_ _ I quit my job making minimum [C] wage, look fairly well twice and act half my [D] age.
I'm looking for somewhere that can handle the rage of young [G] men on the run.
_ [D] _
With [G] rarely paid taxes and shitty insurance, [C] a glove box full of summons and [D] warrants, a finely tuned wish things were that weren't, you could say
I was looking [G] for fun.
[D] _ [G] So I bought an old one red Dodge Ram, [C] bought two pints of whiskey and a thirty of [D] hams.
Now I'm peeing in bottles and eating from cans.
_ But you can't call me homeless friends because I live in [F] a van. _
[F#] They [G] call it the van life.
[C] I've been told this.
[D] It's a fine life.
I've been [G] sold this.
[D] _ [G] It's a fine line between [C] having to and choosing [E] it.
Let's roll up.
Let's [G] blow _ this. _ _
Well, the 7-11's a sure bellyache.
[C] I subsist on a mere [D] wake and bake.
Talladega to Chicago's Lake, sir, I'll take your largest queso.
_ [G] And all the girls from Chickamauga to Paso Makati [C] speak enviously of my [C#] big rusty body.
[D] This old van might just be a Bugatti the way I get it from 60 [B] to zero.
Now [G] I'm 60 miles afar going to Northern [C] Track.
I'm burning rubber, no [G] looking back.
[D] Pushing that thing like a maniac.
I get tipped out like a stripper in singles and crack.
_ I wish someone would fund Amtrak.
Instead for now, [G] it's the van life.
_ [C] I've been told this.
[D] It's a fine life.
[G] I've been sold this.
[D] _ [G] It's a fine line [C] between having to and choosing it.
[D] Let's roll up.
_ [G] Let's blow this. _ _
_ Friends, the South of St.
Louis can be a little [C] gritty.
It's a far cry from Seattle's [B] tent [A] cities.
All in all, life's pretty pretty from the Starship [G] Enterprise.
_ _ Still a guy with a house and a big old lawn [C] thinks his block's too good for me to park [D] on.
Bangs on my door with a letter that tells [G] about a thousand [D] ways he can make my life hell.
[G] And he's worse than the guy who put a brick through [C] my glass and robbed me blind and siphoned the gas.
[D] Because at least I know that guy needed it bad.
Oh, I wish that [Em] old boy well.
[D] _ _ [G] In the meantime, [C] a cop is banging on the door telling me I can't park here no [D] more.
What do you do, friends?
What do you say?
You gotta rev up the engine and drive away. _ _ _
Chalk [G] it up to the van life.
[C] I've been told this.
_ [D] It's a fine line.
[E] I've been sold this.
It's a [G] fine line between having [C] to and choosing it.
[D] Oh, let's roll up.
[G] Let's blow this. _ _ _
Well, I pull into Charlotte to whet my [C] whistle and they see my duds and they give a whistle.
I [D] say, sorry gal, you gotta pay for this gristle.
You got money.
I [G] got time.
[D] _ [G] Put a spot on your floor as a goddamn [C] palace.
The mug of Budweiser's a goddamn [D] chalice.
I say to you, sir, without any malice, your politics are bad.
[Dm] _ _ [G] Oh, I figure this is as low as it gets.
[C] I'm blaming capitalists on [B] the internet.
[D] My sweet old folks can't seem to forget my [G] roughly 60k [D] in medical debt.
And [G] while I'm out here trying to dumpster [C] dive, there's a bunch of rich folks eating apple [D] pie.
I'd rather die on this decent ride.
_ Friends, won't you pickle my bones in sheep red wine?
[N] Pour it out on the ground and just say I was a good time.
Probably on account _ _ of the [G] van life.
I've [C] been told this.
[Em] [D] It's a fine life.
I've been sold [A] this.
[G] It's a fine line [C] between having to and choosing it.
[D] Let's roll up.
[G] Let's blow this.
_ Well, we crashed all the parties, drank kegs of the foam, [C] Nicky Bob's the best [C#] yodeler I've ever known.
[A] We were all so lonely and never alone and kissed a [G] thousand times.
Saw the bombed out buildings of the lower ninth, [C] streetwalkers living on the edge of [D] a knife.
Old trap brass music, man is to life if you've never felt [G] half alive.
Colorado behind me, blue sky above [C] me, New Mexico mountains [Em] are so dang lovely.
I tried not [D] to love her, I just couldn't fight it.
[G] New York is great, I just don't like it.
San Antonio on up to main [C] sheet motel rooms, awful [D] cocaine.
Not a [A] crusade, not even a [G] war.
Just the feeling [D] you've been in this waffle house before.
[G] Well, one buck ninety's too much for [C] gas.
I drive too slow to let anyone pass.
[E] Somebody asked if I'd dance with their daughter.
I said that I wouldn't even know she was awkward.
[G] I got offered fifty bucks to do something [C] quick.
I might have done it for free, but I don't turn [D] tricks.
Say if I showed you my wallet, you'd laugh at me, but I drank half the craft beers in Cincinnati.
[G] I say, girl, I say, damn, I've been trying to [C] reach you for the cut of your jib and you talk about [D] Nietzsche.
Nobody like you in all fifty states, except for Arkansas, Alaska, _ Texas, Oklahoma, _ possibly _ California. _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ But I just [E] chalk that up to the many years of [G] the van life.
[C] I've been told this, [D] it's a fine life.
[E] I've been told this, it's a [G] fine line between having [C] two and choosing it.
[D] Let's roll up, [G] let's blow _ _ this.
_ Yeah, it's a sexy kind of lifestyle for certain [C] folks.
Fractal highways, friends like [D] smoke.
It all goes up and you end up [G] alone.
It's like the Internet is your real home.
The call of the wild, the call of the road, [C] the endless search for a clean [D] commode.
I'm a truck driver of emotional payloads backed up [G] on guitar.
[D] _ [G] Yeah, I'm a public park patron, library [C] sleuth.
I'm a thrift store grifter in western [D] suits.
I'm ringing out three chords and the truth like a wash [A] rag on the bar.
[D] Yeah, I've [G] been living day to day for so [C] dang long.
I'm the kind of note count that you can count [D] on.
I'm drunk in a millionaire's seaside [G] cabana.
I'm pissed because [D] no gas stations have bananas.
Yeah, friends, [G] every time I'm feeling down on my luck, I [C] think I might trade it in for a couple of bucks.
[D] I hear some rich guy like Elon Musk talk about how someday in the near future, we're all going to have cyber trucks.
I think, God, life must be easy if you're one of these dang rich _ _ gentlemen.
_ [C#] And I'm pretty sure that [G] I prefer _ _
_ _ [D] [G] the van life.
[C] I've been told that _ [D] it's a fine life.
[Em] I've been told [D] this.
[G] Oh, it's a fine line between [C] having to and choosing it.
[D] Let's roll up.
Let's hunker down.
Let's gussy up.
Let's throw down.
It's a fine line up on time.
You're behind.
Chugga-lug, chugga-lug, hidey-ho.
Same old night the whole world over.
All my friends are not anachronisms and not compromised by alternative lifestyles and meritocracies alike. _ _
[G] Oh, let's fold it. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ [G] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [E] _ _ _ _