Tom: E major•
Verse 1
E
Look under his floorboards,
Mama,
I don't trust his silly grin
He's got a beat- up Rambler,
Nebraska plates,
I don't like the way his pinky ring
Picks up the dashboard light
E
Or his short little piggy
fingers
Or the way his belt is cinched too tight
Verse 2
E
Check under his floorboards,
Mama,
I don't like his suggestive tone
The way his words drip
from his mouth
As he asks can I take you home?
A
I don't care how many miles I got,
I think I'd rather walk them alone
E
Than to sit in the back seat
As his eyes in the mirror
Reduce me to flesh and bone
Verse 3
E
Check under his floorboards,
Mama,
'cause that razor's not just a threat
to me
He'll be slicing tiny crescents from your heart,
Without laying a sweaty palm to your cheek
A
Don't accuse me of running scared,
Listen to what I'm saying
E
It's a fucked up ol' world,
but this ol' girl
Outro 1
Well, she ain't giving in
E
A
E
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