She calls you from a room somewhere in the citynHear the sound of the ground through the static and pitynThere's a vision of you in a bath of red waternsitting on her tongue like a silver dollarnnAnd between your ears all her words are just litternThe alphabet is torn and your spit is getting bitternYou could make a mistake and judge her falselynYour bed was just a hole where she couldn't sleep honestlynnHer hair was the color of the corn where you were bornnYou could hear her voice when the north wind blewnand her skin held the sound of the rain on the panenbut she carried a knife for to cut you loosenShe carried a knife for to cut you loosennYou watch the leaves shiver underneath a black skynHold the moon in contempt for shedding any lightnAnd you hunt the devil down and try to sell your soulnbut if you want your woman back you'll have to knock her out coldnnYou've got a ring around your finger to prove that she was herenA white dress in the attic hanging by the rafternA ghost in your kitchen with flowers in her hairnand eyes the color of alabasternnHer hair was the color of the corn where you were bornnYou could hear her voice when the north wind blewnand her skin was the same as the rain on the panenbut she carried a knife for to cut you loosenShe carried a knife for to cut you loose