Bruised Orange Lyrics

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've 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 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
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/bruised-orange-lyrics-john-prine.html ] 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
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