Her

eyes

and

words

are

so

i-

cy

Oh

but

she

burns

Like

rum

on

the

fire

Hot

and

fast

and

an-

gry

as

she

can

be

I

walk

my

days

on

a

wire.

It

looks

ug-

ly,

but

it's

clean,

Oh

mo

-

mma,

don't

fuss

o-

ver

me.

The

way

she

tells

me

I'm

hers

and

she

is

mine

O

-

pen

hand

or

closed

fist

would

be

fine

The

blood

is

rare

and

sweet

as

cher-

ry

wine.

Calls

of

gui-

lty

thrown

at

me

All

while

she

stains

The

sheets

of

some

o-

ther

Thrown

at

me

so

po

wer

fully

Just

like

she

throws

with

the

arm

of

her

bro-

ther.

But

I

want

it

It's

a

crime

That

she's

not

a-

round

most

of

the

time.

The

way

she

shows

me

I'm

hers

and

she

is

mine

O

-

pen

hand

or

closed

fist

would

be

fine

The

blood

is

rare

and

sweet

as

cher

-

ry

wine.

Her

fight

and

fu-

ry

is

fi-

e-

ry

Oh

but

she

loves

Like

sleep

to

the

free

-

zing

Sweet

and

right

and

mer-

ci-

ful

I'm

all

but

washed

In

the

tide

of

her

brea-

thing.

And

it's

worth

it,

it's

di-

vine

I

have

this

some

of

the

time.

The

way

she

tells

me

I'm

hers

and

she

is

mine

O

-

pen

hand

or

closed

fist

would

be

fine

The

blood

is

rare

and

sweet

as

cher

-

ry

wine.