You
can tell the world
you
never was my girl,
you
can burn my clothes
up
when I am gone.
You
can tell your friends
just
what a fool I've been,
and
laugh and joke
about
me on the phone
You
can tell my arms :
Go
back into the farm!
You
can tell my feet
to
hit the floor.
You
can tell my lips
to
tell my fingertips,
they
won't be reaching out
for
you no more.
But
don't tell my heart,
my
achy breaky heart,
I
just don't think he'll understand.
But
if you tell my heart,
my
achy breaky heart,
he
might blow up and kill this man.
You
can tell your Ma,
I
moved to Arkansas,
you
can tell your dog
to
bite my leg.
Or
tell your brother Cliff,
whose
fist can tell my lips,
he
never really liked me anyway.
Or
tell your Aunt Louise,
tell
anything you please,
myself
already knows I'm not O.K.
Or
you can tell my eyes
to
watch out for my mind,
it
might be walkin' out
on
me one day.