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
* * * * *P.S. * * * * *
A trick I have learned is to occasionally add your fourth finger to the third fret of the A string when playing