If she weren't writing in blood
She'd bring him her jokes
A new liver
And a shovel for the mud
If he were not knee-deep in mud
He'd bring her his drugs
He'd get her a typewriter
If this is the life
Why does it feel so good to die today?
Blue to gray
Grow up and blow away...
First double-cross her heart
He wants to start a family
Her body is the baby.