Oh, well, my father's leather on the inside of my skin I'm a dry and weathered woman, but I won't be tried again Don't think that you can comfort 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 prove I wore the justice belt and I have vanished with the fools I have worshipped at the altar of the perfect master's rule I have held my tongue to many scenes before the final act With my children in the cheap seats and a temple on my back Thanks to you, no, thanks to you Tethered in wide-open spaces and fields that leap from my eyes Frightened to the pebble of a god Mending of your fences with my horses running around Only broken horses know to run I have ever so politely treaded softly for your grace I have ever whispered through the tears and made it sweetly to your face It is time to spit you out like a lukewarm water from my mouth I will always taste the apathy, but I won't pass it down and die with you Tethered in wide-open spaces and fields that leap from my eyes Frightened to the pebble of a god Mending of your fences with my horses running around Only broken horses know to run I will always taste the apathy, but I won't pass it down and die with you My father's leather on the inside of my skin I'm a dreaded 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 Tethered in wide-open spaces and fields that leap from my eyes Frightened to the pebble of a god Mending of your fences with my horses running around Only broken horses know to run Thanks for watching!