Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrow) by John Prine

My heart's in the icehouse
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 tracks
Howl naked, get 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'll become your own prisoner
As you watch yourself sit there
Wrapped up in a trap of your very own chain of sorrow

I've been brought down to zero
Pulled out and put back there
I sat on the park bench
Kissed the girl with the black hair
And my head shouted down to my heart
"You'd better look out below"

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 wherever you go


Repeat first two verses

February 19, 1996 /, Return to my homepage.