A Bowl Collecting Blood

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 look for what was his

You took what he would give

You 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

'Cause once you pull them in

You know they're never coming out

You 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