Her eyes and words are so icy Oh but she burns Like rum on the fire Hot and fast and angry as she can be I walk my days on a wire. It looks ugly, but it's clean, Oh momma, 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. The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine. Her fight and fury is fiery Oh but she loves Like sleep to the freezing 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. The 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.
