Crédits photographiques Jana Hobeika
I walk my days on a wire
Oh mamma, don't fuss over me
Calls of guilty thrown at me
Thrown at me so powerfully
Sweet and right and merciful
I'm all but washed in the tides of her breathing
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
Crédits photographiques Jana Hobeika
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/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
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
Her fight and fury is fiery Oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing
Sweet and right and merciful I'm all but washed in the tide(s) of her breathing
And it's worth it, it's divine
I have this some of the time
https://youtu.be/pWWX0aUW_HY
https://youtu.be/SdSCCwtNEjA
Cherry wine : a woman's virginity when removing it and the blood that may be a result of it.
https://youtu.be/_cV80gJ4i1E
I had a lap top and a microphone.
Cracking the whip, I'm not even jokin'.
Sorry.