Home is where I thought I was
Must have been asleep.
I saw you picking fists of red and green.
Some of them you keep,
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 the 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
that every time that 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
Once you pull them in,
you know they're never coming out.
Well 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 were finished,
You know he was nobody else's to love.
And I remember he told me
that every time that you touched.
And they go out in the cold
Like the 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
that every time that you touched.
Your skin was like a bowl collecting blood.

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