It s almost there, enjoy.
Home is where I thought I was,
I must have been asleep,
I saw you picking fists of red and green,
And some of them you keep,
And some you throw away,
You always were a waste,
You take more than you need.
Now I m,
Afraid to close my eyes,
The air is full of ice,
Reminds me of the winter in your smile.
You looked for what was his,
Took what he would give,
Played til you were tired,
And when you d had enough,
You threw him out in the cold like a hair coming off of a brush,
When you were finished you know he was nobody else s to love,
And I remember he told me every time you touched,
Your skin was like a bowl collecting blood.
I know he s gone,
I know he went away,
I know he couldn t take,
The sight of all those bodies in your wake.
You re pretty like a snake,
You re pretty like the ground,
cause once you pull them in,
You know they re never coming out,
So shake another hip,
And then you take another scalp.
And they go out in the cold like a hair coming off of a brush,
When you were finished you know he was nobody else s to love,
And I remember he told me every time you touched,
Your skin was like a bowl collecting blood.