Act of Congress - Choke Cherry Rum Lyrics

I twiddled my thumbs; they're worn through to' bone
Fermented, rotting this addiction is chronic
I keep turning water to wine

If were tipsy, will you miss me, will you reach for my
Moth eaten, hole written, my holy flesh
My Holy Flesh

Sickly sweet grenadine choke cherry rum,
The mixer the kicker the lover the nun
And this holy flesh

Your fingers paint patterns that bu no rn my skin
But I still tell the gods you taste of merlot in a tulip stem

If were tipsy, will you miss me, will you reach for my
Moth eaten, hole written, my holy flesh
My Holy Flesh

Sickly sweet grenadine choke cherry rum,
The mixer the kicker the lover the nun
And this holy flesh