Plum Wine In The Night

from Soft Blood by Lyn Rye

/

lyrics

She tastes like plum wine
In the night
Warmth in her veins
I cannot drink

Secrets spill
Wine stains on sheets
But only on her side of the bed
She doesn’t see
That I still fold my blankets
Like a guest

Round me to the nearest integer
I never ask for change
Now you cannot make sense of me
Really, who’s to blame

She tastes like plum wine
In the night
Warmth in her veins
I cannot drink

Light on pillows
Sober waking eyes
All confidences, lush or bare
Still can’t shrift the stranger
Out of me

Round me to the nearest integer
I never ask for change
Now you cannot make sense of me
Really, who’s to blame

credits

from Soft Blood, released September 9, 2022

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Lyn Rye Chicago, Illinois

Makes art, gardens, and trouble (iA).

@lyn_rye_music on social media

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