| I had a lover, her name was Grace
|
| She found me down in a lonely place
|
| She dug me out with an old jaw bone
|
| She dressed me up for to take me home
|
| She fed me words that I could not taste
|
| For I had no tongue, it had been replaced
|
| By a green and a growin' flower which grew
|
| And I knew if I ever spoke, I would speak true
|
| We lived together in an old hotel
|
| A broke-down palace with a wishing well
|
| The neighbor girl taught me how to spell
|
| And how to steal what I could not sell
|
| But I fed my tongue on the Devil’s rum
|
| In a roadhouse run by a godless bum
|
| On a drunken night, with a stolen gun
|
| I shot my lover as she made to run
|
| The judge said, «Son, what have you done?»
|
| But I didn’t speak a word, no I didn’t speak one
|
| And the judge sent me away
|
| And they buried my Grace, yeah, the very next day
|
| They sent me out on a midnight train
|
| In the rain, rollin' down through the dusty plain
|
| Four men sittin' with an old shotgun
|
| Silver stars pinned on every one
|
| They busted my mouth for to get at my tongue
|
| To see just how this had all begun
|
| So I opened my mouth like a dragon’s breath
|
| I only spoke truth, but it only brought death
|
| And I laid those boys to rest
|
| For the truth, in truth, is a terrible jest
|
| For there ain’t no road but the road to home
|
| There ain’t no crops but the ones you’ve sown
|
| And if you learn one thing from me
|
| You’d better guard your tongue like your enemy, yeah
|
| I came to ground in a one-horse town
|
| On the western rim, where the sun go down
|
| Where a branded man might start again
|
| For to right his wrong, for to lose his sin
|
| But my tongue kept growing, it would not cease
|
| I grew quite weary, couldn’t get no release
|
| So I went to the magistrate and turned myself in
|
| Picked up a shovel and he made the grin
|
| And they planted me by the sea
|
| Now the birds of the air make nests on me |