Her eyes and words are so icy
like rum on a fire
oh but she burns
Hot and fast and angry
as she can be
I walk my days on a wire
It looks ugly
but it's clean
oh mama don't fuss over me
The way she tells me I'm hers
and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist
would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet
as cherry wine
Calls of guilty
thrown at me
All while she stains
the sheets of some other
Thrown at me so powerfully
just like she throws
with the arm of her brother
But I want it
it's a crime
That she's not around
most of the time
Way she shows me I'm hers
and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist
would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet
as cherry wine
Her fight and fury is fiery
like sleep to the freezing
oh but she loves
Sweet and right and merciful
I'm all but washed
in the tide of her breathing
And it's worth it
it's divine
I have this some of the time
Way she shows me I'm hers
and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist
would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet
as cherry wine
