Text: Tori Amos. Blood Roses.

Ahaha... Ahaha... Blood roses, blood roses, back on the street now.
Blood roses, blood roses back on the street now.
Can't forget the things you never said.
An on days like these starts me thinking.
When chickens get a taste of your meat girl.
When chickens get a taste of your meat, yes. Ahaha...

You gave him your blood and your warm little diamond.
He likes killing you after you're dead.
You think I'm a queer, I think you're a queer.
Said, I think you're a queer, I think you're a queer.
I shaved every place where you been boy.
I said, I shaved every place where you been, yes. Ahaha...


God knows I know I've thrown away... those graces...
God knows I know I've thrown away... those graces...
God knows I know I've thrown away... those graces...


The Belle of New Orleans tried to show me, once, how to Tango.
Wrapped around your feet, wrapped around like good little roses.


Ahaha... Blood roses, blood roses, back on the street now.
Blood roses, blood roses, back on the street now... now... now... now...
You've cut out the flute from throat of the loon.
And at least when you cry now, he can't even hear you.


When chickens get a taste of your meat girl,
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon,
Oh, when he sucks you deep, yes, sometimes you're nothing but meat...