C               F                          Am                 
 G
High upon a forgotten mountain top, lay a garden, untended and dry
         C                       G             Am             
  G
'twas a yard that hadn't felt children's feet running, for the mother long
  F                G             C
ago, taught her children how to fly
  C                       F
Within a simple cabin, untouched by industrial hands
          Am                 G
Sat the aging mother in her home
           C                   G                  Am        G
You can’t escape the picture frames, there’s too many, she said
      F             G     C
They keep me from being alone
C                            F                    Am          
            G
Well she spoke, "he was an honest man, he worked hard to put food on our plates
      C           G          Am      G               
  F
Well we had more babies than we had arms, we struggled all our lives
         G            C
But the rewards were great
     C                F                      Am               
   G
And when my son came home from the war, he rested his head on my breast
             C                  G             Am             
      F
And said, “mom, I’m tired of being used and grinded down, I feel so low
                   G               C
Can you make me feel like I’m the best?”
         C                       F              Am            
       G
Well my best friend truly wed a savage man, he wore her like a bad tattoo
         C     G                Am  G                
   F              G             C
For his only love was for the bottle, she said there’s only one thing left for me to do
        C                  F                          Am      
               G
To be wild once again, to take back my life and run away, set flames to his truck
     C          G                Am     G          
        G                 C
He won’t ever know he’s been missing I did every day, joy freedom, dance, and love
C F Am           G
      Dance and love..."
C                                F
These are the stories that this mother spoke to me,
      Am                         G            C              G
As I brought her garden back to grow. I was rewarded with a warm meal
       Am          G                     F            
          C
Tales never to be heard, some call it poverty, but they’ll never know
           C                                    F             
                           G
She said “All I’ve got is my stories and this old guitar, my crops have all come and 
away,
             C          G           Am            G  
        F              G               C
I’ve got a head full of recipies,enticing to the taste and a liking to wake up and greet 
day
         C                      F             Am              
     G
Got bad back from raising my children, from hugging my husband so tight
              C          G            Am      G      
        F           G                 C
Hell, I’ve never cared much for any government, I’ve got my jesus when I feel the time 
right,
          C                   F           Am                  
    G                 C           G
Singin’ I’m the richest I'll ever be, I embrace the world I have all around me. So sing 
dying song, and
Am          G             F            G  C
slap your knee, Have a taste of true anarchy
C F Am       G
   Yeah, anarchy