Lyrics
words to study
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 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

The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

Calls of guilty thrown at me


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