When the (C5)sky is a bright ca nar y yel low,

I for (Bb5)get ev ’ry cloud I’ve ev er seen.

So they (Ab)call me a cock eyed op ti mist,

im ma (Fm)ture and in cur a bly green.

I have heard peo ple rant and rave and bel low

that we’re (Db)done and we might as well be (Db6)dead.

But I’m (Ab)on ly a (Bb)cock eyed (Gm7)op ti mist,

and I (Fm7)can’t get it in to my (Eb)head.

I (Gm)hear the hu man (Gm6)race is (A7sus4)fall ing on its (D)face and (Gm)has n’t ver y far to (A7sus4)go.

But (Gm)ev ’ry whip poor (Gm(maj7))will is (Dm7)sell ing me a (D)bill and (Bb)tall ing me it (F13)just ain’t (Fm7)so.

Now, I could (E)say life is (E)just a bowl of (E6)Jell O

and ap (Bm7)pear more in tel li gent and smart,

but I’m (A6)stuck

like a (A)dope

with a (E)thing called (F#)hope,

and I (B)can’t,

no, I (B)won’t get it out of my (Emaj7)heart,

not

this

heart.