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 fall on 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 the 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 can 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.