Almighty Malachi, Professional Bowling God CHORDS TABBED BY: VOMBAT VERSE: [B5][G][B5] [G] [B5][G][B5][G] E] But you can't judge me 'till you walked a mile in my bowling shoes. So I don't get all the ladies. Gotta mullet from the 80's I am known throughout the valleys. As the prophet of alleys. CHORUS: [Am] [E] [G] [Am] [E] [G] And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!" [Am][E] [G] [D] I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling god. [Am] [E] [G] The smell of resin gets my high. [Am] [E] [G] [Am] Kiss those fucking pins goodbye! [Am][E] [G] [D] I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling... the bowling... [B5][G][B5][G]...etc. GOD!!!! Got a ball that's smooth and all black. I keep it in my lucky ball sack. I get a feeling in my soul. As I finger every hole. And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!" I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling god. The smell of resin gets my high. Kiss those motherfucking pins goodbye! I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling... bowling... (This part is played with only [B5] and [G] just like in the vese) Not a single man will try, to beat Almighty Malachi. All who challenge me are slain. Come on, fuckers, pick a lane. Marshall Holden, Gary Dickens, get in line for your ass kickins'. John Patraglia, Norm Duke, your so lame it makes me puke. Who among the pro-bowl sector. Dares to don his wrist protector. Not that pussy Nelson Burton, tells me that his wrist is hurtin'. Hey my prophet, Earl the Pearl, are ya' scared to give the ball a hurl? How bout' Dicky Weber and his son Pete? I'll turn the motherfuckers to cream of wheat! And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!" I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling god. The smell of resin gets my high. Kiss those fucking pins goodbye! I'm Almighty Malachi, the bowling... bowling god!! Yeaaaaaaah! The bowling god!
