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
The blood is rare
and sweet as cherry wine
Her fight and fury is fiery
Oh but she looks 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
And 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