On paper cuts I’m sucking
From roses thorns I’m plucking
Just to feel the stick
And stick my fingers hand to mouth
And taste the blood like copper
And squeezing, please don’t stop her
From putting teeth to flesh
I always like it best
When I can feel the sting
And inside passion’s rising
From small wounds-you’re surmising
Maybe the girl’s sick.
But I just make the best of it,
Cause life so often hurts.