You are a home
I own the deed
Your eyes are sharp and blood-soaked knives
That never forgive me
Lean over stairs
Come on in here
You're welcome all the time but don't cut in line
I can't see to steer
I spit through bleeding lips
That I love you too much
Broken hands can't write songs and when they do they're all wrong
They never say what I want
I'm sorry
For ever writing songs about you
I should never play guitar again