Brusied Orange (Chain Of Sorrow)
John Prine
My heart's in the ice house
come hill or come valley
like a long ago Sunday
when I walked through the alley
on a cold winter's morning
to a church house
just to shovel
some snow
I heard sirens on the train track
howl naked
gettin' nuder
an altar boy's
been hit
by a local commuter
just from walking
with his back turned
to the train
that was coming so slow.

You can gaze out the window
get mad and get madder
throw your hands in the air
say "What does it matter?"
but it don't do no good
to get angry
so help me
I know
for a heart stained in anger
grows weak and grows bitter
you become your own prisoner
as you watch yourself
sit there
wrapped up in a trap
of your very own
chain of sorrow
I been brought down to zero
pulled out
and put back there
I sat on a park bench
kissed the girl
with the black hair
and my head shouted down
to my heart
you better look out
hey it ain't such a long drop
don't stammer
don't stutter
from the diamonds
in the sidewalk
to the dirt
in the gutter
and you carry those bruises
to remind you
you go.

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