| Song | Blood Roses |
| Artist | Tori Amos |
| Album | A Piano: The Collection |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Lyrics:Tori Amos Music:Tori Amos | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Back on the street now. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Back on the street now. | |
| Can't forget the things you never said. | |
| On days like these gets me thinking. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat, yes. | |
| You gave him your blood | |
| and your warm little diamond. | |
| He likes killing you after you're dead. | |
| You think I'm a queer. | |
| I think you're a queer. | |
| I think you're a queer. | |
| Said I think you're a queer. | |
| And I shaved every place where you been. | |
| I shaved every place where you been, yes. | |
| God knows, I know I've thrown away those graces. | |
| God knows, I've thrown away those graces. | |
| God knows, I know I've thrown away those graces. | |
| The Belle of New Orleans tried to show me | |
| once how to tango. | |
| Wrapped around your feet | |
| wrapped around like good little roses. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| back on the street now. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| back on the street now, now, now, | |
| now you've cut out the flute | |
| from the throat of the loon. | |
| At least when you cry now, | |
| he can't even hear you. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat | |
| Come on, Come on, Come on, Come on, | |
| when sucks you deep. | |
| Sometimes you're nothing but meat. |
| Lyrics: Tori Amos Music: Tori Amos | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Back on the street now. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Back on the street now. | |
| Can' t forget the things you never said. | |
| On days like these gets me thinking. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat, yes. | |
| You gave him your blood | |
| and your warm little diamond. | |
| He likes killing you after you' re dead. | |
| You think I' m a queer. | |
| I think you' re a queer. | |
| I think you' re a queer. | |
| Said I think you' re a queer. | |
| And I shaved every place where you been. | |
| I shaved every place where you been, yes. | |
| God knows, I know I' ve thrown away those graces. | |
| God knows, I' ve thrown away those graces. | |
| God knows, I know I' ve thrown away those graces. | |
| The Belle of New Orleans tried to show me | |
| once how to tango. | |
| Wrapped around your feet | |
| wrapped around like good little roses. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| back on the street now. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| back on the street now, now, now, | |
| now you' ve cut out the flute | |
| from the throat of the loon. | |
| At least when you cry now, | |
| he can' t even hear you. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat | |
| Come on, Come on, Come on, Come on, | |
| when sucks you deep. | |
| Sometimes you' re nothing but meat. |
| Lyrics: Tori Amos Music: Tori Amos | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Back on the street now. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Back on the street now. | |
| Can' t forget the things you never said. | |
| On days like these gets me thinking. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat, yes. | |
| You gave him your blood | |
| and your warm little diamond. | |
| He likes killing you after you' re dead. | |
| You think I' m a queer. | |
| I think you' re a queer. | |
| I think you' re a queer. | |
| Said I think you' re a queer. | |
| And I shaved every place where you been. | |
| I shaved every place where you been, yes. | |
| God knows, I know I' ve thrown away those graces. | |
| God knows, I' ve thrown away those graces. | |
| God knows, I know I' ve thrown away those graces. | |
| The Belle of New Orleans tried to show me | |
| once how to tango. | |
| Wrapped around your feet | |
| wrapped around like good little roses. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| back on the street now. | |
| Blood Roses | |
| Blood Roses | |
| back on the street now, now, now, | |
| now you' ve cut out the flute | |
| from the throat of the loon. | |
| At least when you cry now, | |
| he can' t even hear you. | |
| When chickens get a taste of your meat | |
| Come on, Come on, Come on, Come on, | |
| when sucks you deep. | |
| Sometimes you' re nothing but meat. |