In Our Blood
William Ryan Fritch
Could I ever hurt or love
The way I did for you?
I still pick at the wounds we've left
Because in the blood you remain
As the last seams of the clothes
We knew each other in have ripped
As the coat of paint we laid
Hangs on drying and chipped
Only in the blood we'll remain
As the last of the wounds have scabbed
We continue to pick at them
Just to see that our blood still flows
