Chain of Sorrow
(Bruised orange)
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 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.
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 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.
Found the above today- another amazing song from the pen of John Prine. It is more significant when compered with the tune I found last eve by Iris Dement:
ReplyDeleteIris Dement
The night I learned how not to pray
I was laying on my belly in the middle of the living floor
I was watching Howdy Doody so I’m guessing it was right around four
When I saw my baby brother tumbling from the top of the stairs
He was lying limp and silent and the blood was trickling through his shiny
Hair
When my mom saw my little brother she said you better run and get your dad
And her voice was high and she was shaking so I knew that this was bad
Well we stood out at the mailbox watching her and dad and brother drive
Away
And I didn’t waste no time I got down on my knees right there and began to
Pray
Well I prayed into the evening, never even took the time to have a bite
I was sure if I prayed hard enough that God would make it right
We were at the kitchen table long past bedtime when we finally got that
Call
And I knew that it was over when my sister slammed that phone against the
Wall
That was the night I learned how not to pray
God does what God wants to any way
And I never did tell my mother, I kept it from my sisters and all my
Brothers
That was the night I learned how not to pray
It was 41 years later when I took my brothers picture out of a box
Hung it on the wall and sat across from him and I began to talk
When the evening started I didn’t know what I was going to say
But before the night was over I told them all about how I learned not to
Pray
That was the night I learned how not to pray
God does what God wants to any way
And I never did tell my mother, I kept it from my sisters and all my
Brothers
That was the night I learned how not to pray