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Broken Horses

de Brandi Carlile

I wear my father's leather on the inside of my skin
I'm a tried and weathered woman, but I won't be tried again
Don't think that you can come for me without your Sunday best
You had better call your priest and hope the devil gets the rest
Before I do
Oh, and I will do

I've worn the jester's bells and I have vanished with the fools
I have worshiped at the altar of the puppet master's rule
I have held my tongue too many scenes before the final act
With my children in the cheap seats and a zipper on my back
Thanks to you
No, thanks to you

Tethered in wide open spaces
In fields that lead for miles
Right into the barrel of a gun
Mendin' up your fences with my
Horses runnin' wild
Only broken horses know to run

I have ever so politely treaded softly for your praise
I have whispered through the tears and pleaded sweetly to your face
It is time to spit you out like lukewarm water from my mouth
I will always taste the apathy, but I won't pass it down
Enough with you
You, you

Tethered in wide open spaces
In fields that lead for miles
Right into the barrel of a gun
Mendin' up your fences with my
Horses runnin' wild
Only broken horses know to run

I wear my father's leather on the inside of my skin
I'm a tried and weathered woman, but I won't be tried again
Don't think that you can come for me without your Sunday best
You had better call your priest and hope the devil gets the rest
Before I do
Oh, and I will do

Tethered in wide open spaces
In fields that lead for miles
Right into the barrel of a gun
Mendin' up your fences with my
Horses runnin' wild
Only broken horses know to run

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