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Текст (слова) песни: John Prine - Bruised Orange
My hearts in the ice house come hill or come valley
Like a long ago sunday when I walked through the alley
On a cold winters morning to a church house
Just to shovel some snow.
I heard sirens on the train track howl naked gettin nuder,
An altar boys 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 dont 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 below!"
Hey, it aint such a long drop dont stammer dont stutter
From the diamonds in the sidewalk to the dirt in the gutter
And you carry those bruises to remind you wherever you go.
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