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My heart's in the ice house come hill or come valley |
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Like a long ago sunday when I walked through the alley |
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On a cold winter's morning to a church house |
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Just to shovel some snow. |
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I heard sirens on the train track howl naked gettin' nuder, |
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An altar boy's been hit by a local commuter |
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Just from walking with his back turned |
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To the train that was coming so slow. |
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You can gaze out the window get mad and get madder, |
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Throw your hands in the air, say "what does it matter? " |
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But it don't do no good to get angry, |
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So help me I know |
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For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter. |
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You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there |
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Wrapped up in a trap of your very own |
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Chain of sorrow. |
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I been brought down to zero, pulled out and put back there. |
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I sat on a park bench, kissed the girl with the black hair |
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And my head shouted down to my heart |
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"you better look out below!" |
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Hey, it ain't such a long drop don't stammer don't stutter |
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From the diamonds in the sidewalk to the dirt in the gutter |
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And you carry those bruises to remind you wherever you go. |
