Am This is a story 'bout living D A tale of a long hard road Am Ain't a whole lot of misgivings D C Am Of the things that I thought I sowed My daddy was a real hard worker D He said son there will come a day Am Talk ain't always cheap D C Am And here's what daddy had to say Chorus: D C Am With these hands I've made my living D C Am With these hands I've held a child D C Am With these hands I've climbed a mountain E Sometimes we forget G Am G Am We ain't much different at all He likes grits, you like the apple There ain't nothing wrong with that He says y'all, you say you're It all depends on where you're at Well a little bit of music is a whole lot of fun And its always good for the soul From New York City out to California You know its only rock and roll With these hands we come together With these hands we can change the world With these hands I play my music Sometimes we forget We ain't much different at all Oh, not at all So what I'm trying to tell you Is that I'm only one son of the South Its gonna take more than you me and you To work this whole thing out Chorus With these hands we come together With these hands we can change the world With these hands I play my music Sometimes we forget We ain't much different at all | TransposeReset Font sizeReset Chords fingeringsAm C D E G |