Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrow) by John Prine - ¾ Time

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, a howl naked, gettin’ nuder

An altar boy's been hit by a local commuter

Just from walking with his back turned

T’ward 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 with 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

Verse G G G G C C C C

G G D D G G G G

G G G G C C C C

G G D D G G G7 G7

Chorus C C C C G G G G

D D D7 D7 G G G7 G7

C C C C G G G G

D D D7 D7 G G G G

Prepared by Mike Martin