Little sister, I don't know if you should look at me that way.
There's a blister 'bout to burst,
Only waiting for a quick, deliberate and violent touch.
But oh to resist her, or to kiss her, either one feels like,
They both feel like a sin.
Little sister, I confess you've been present on my mind,
With your mystery undressed and my heart scrubbed bare,
Burned clean by turpentine.
Bus till, she insists there are no fairy tales,
We end before we start.
I start to break as she fades and disappears,
And oh, when I'm with her I feel so much joy and brokenness,
It's hard, it's hard, it's hard, it's hard,
It's hard to know how to hold your sister.
Little sister, God, I know I shouldn't look at you this way.
We have a history, it's comforting, familiar,
When we set the house on fire and walk away.
But still, to resist her or to kiss her, either one tears me apart.
A part breaks free as she fades and disappears.
And oh, I am just a dumb beast, stuck here, stranded,
Staring at its heart, its heart, its heart, its heart,
Its heart to know, how to hold your sister.