Her eyes and words are so icy, oh, but she burns Like rum on a 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 mamma, 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 But 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 tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine But blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine Guitar Solo Her fight and fury's 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 tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine But blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine End on
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