i braid my hands together, veins coursing with rain
channeling a storm that never does make the journey

where i come from, a whisper could shake the sky
collapse the clouds and drag heaven from its pedestal

lightning to a tree, and the girl is just a trickle
when will you stop dripping blood on my hands?

i braid my hands together, veins coursing with rage
channeling a storm that never does make the journey

it's hard to tell your red from the honey of my skin
the blood on my hands starts to look like a friend