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
And 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 'till you were tired,
And when you 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 the hair coming off of a brush
When you are finished you know they are nobody else's to love
And I remember he told me that every time that you touched
Your skin
Was like a bowl collecting blood.