Broken Horses - Brandi Carlile (布兰迪 卡莉)

Lyrics by：Brandi Carlile/Phil Hanseroth/Tim Hanseroth

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