Her eyes and words are so icy Ho but she burns, like rum on a fire Hot and fast, and andry, as she

Her eyes and words are so icy
Ho but she burns, like rum on a fire
Hot and fast, and andry, as she can be i walk my days on a wire.
It looks ugly, but it’s clean, Ho mamma don’t fuss over me.
The way she tells me i’m hers and she is mine.
Open hand or closed fist would be fine, the blood is rare and sweet.
As cherry wine