Broken Horses

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 Oh, 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 Oh, 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