Bruised Orange

John Prine · Other Songs - John Prine

My heart's in the ice house, 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 track howl naked gettin' nuder

An altar boy's been hit by a local commuter

Just from walking with his back turned

To 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 in anger grows weak and grows bitter

You 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 a park bench, kissed the girl with the black hair

And my head shouted down to my heart

"You better look out below"



Hey, 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



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 in anger grows weak and grows bitter

You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there

Wrapped up in a trap of your very own chain of sorrow



My heart's in the ice house, 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 track howl naked gettin' nuder

An altar boy's been hit by a local commuter

Just from walking with his back turned

To 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 in anger grows weak and grows bitter

You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there

Wrapped up in a trap of your very own chain of sorrow

Bruised Orange

John Prine's "Bruised Orange" stands as a quintessential example of his signature acoustic storytelling, blending folk and country influences with a warm, conversational tone. The track exemplifies Prine's ability to weave together mundane imagery with profound emotional resonance, a hallmark of his discography that spans decades of live and studio recordings. Often performed in his intimate, unadorned style, the song reflects his deep connection to everyday life and the human condition, characteristic of his work from the 1970s through the 2010s. As a staple of his live performances, the recording captures the raw, unpolished authenticity that defined his career and continues to resonate with audiences who appreciate his lyrical depth and musical simplicity.