You can tell the world you
never was my girl,
You can burn my clothes up
when I'm 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 to the farm,
You can tell my feet to
hit the floor,
Or 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'd understand.
And if you tell my heart,
My achy breaky heart,
He might blow up and kill this man.
Ooooooo
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 lip,
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 walking out on me today.
But don't tell my heart,
My achy breaky heart,
I just don't think he'd understand.
And if you tell my heart,
My achy breaky heart,
He might blow up and kill this man.
Oooooo
But don't tell my heart,
My achy breaky heart,
I just don't think he'd understand.
And if you tell my heart,
My achy breaky heart,
He might blow up and kill this man.
But don't tell my heart,
My achy breaky heart,
I just don't think he'd understand.
And if you tell my heart,
My achy breaky heart,
He might blow up and kill this man.