I wear my father's leather on the inside of my skinI'm a tried and weathered woman, but I won't be tried againDon't think that you can come for me without your Sunday bestYou had better call your priest and hope the devil gets the restBefore I doOh, and I will do.I have worn the jester's bells and I have vanished with the foolsI have worshiped at the altar of the puppet master's rulesI have held my tongue too many scenes before the final actWith my children in the cheap seats and a zipper on my backThanks to youNo thanks to you.Tethered in wide open spacesIn fields that lead for milesRight into the barrel of a gunMendin' up your fences with myHorses runnin' wildOnly broken horses know to run.I have ever so politely treaded softly for your graceI have whispered through the tears and pleaded sweetly to your faceIt is time to spit you out like lukewarm water from my mouthI will always taste the apathy, but I won't pass it downIt dies with youYou.Tethered in wide open spacesIn fields that lead for milesRight into the barrel of a gunMendin' up your fences with myHorses runnin' wildOnly broken horses know to run.I wear my father's leather on the inside of my skinI'm a tried and weathered woman, but I won't be tried againDon't think that you can come for me without your Sunday bestYou had better call your priest and hope the devil gets the restBefore I doOh, and I will do.Tethered in wide open spacesIn fields that lead for milesRight into the barrel of a gunMendin' up your fences with myHorses runnin' wildOnly broken horses know to run