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Little sister, I don't know if you should look at me that way |
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There's a blister about to burst, only waiting for a quick, deliberate and violent touch |
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But oh, to resist her or to kiss her, either one feels like |
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They both feel like a sin |
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Little sister, I confess you've been present on my mind |
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With your mystery undressed and my heart scrubbed bare, burned clean by turpentine |
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Bus still she insists there are no fairy tales, we end before we start |
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I start to break as she fades and disappears |
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And oh, when I'm with her I feel so much joy and brokenness |
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It's hard, it's hard, it's hard, it's hard |
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It's hard to know how to hold |
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Your sister |
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Little sister, God, I know I shouldn't look at you this way |
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We have a history, it's comforting, familiar when we set the house on fire and walk away |
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But still, to resist her or to kiss her, either one tears me apart |
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A part breaks free as she fades and disappears |
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And oh, I am just a dumb beast, stuck here, stranded, staring at its heart |
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Its heart, its heart, its heart |
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Its hard to know how to hold |
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Your sister |
