She has a bruise on her thigh, she has a bruise on her thigh.
I wish that I didn't know, I wish those teethmarks were mine.
She has a cut in her skin, I wish that I haven't seen.
I wish that I didn't know she likes to cut herself clean.
I squeeze the glass in my hand 'til it cracks.
I spill the wine, I'm grinding my teeth 'til they break.
I got some blood on my teeth, I got your blood on my teeth.
Oh why, oh why you're not her? Her blood would give me relief.
She rocks a bruise on her thigh. I wish them teethmarks were mine.
I eat my cereal and smile, pretending everything's fine.
Her toenails are painted black. I feel I'm under attack.
I feel I'm under her spell and I may never come back.
She has a wound in her soul, she cannot ever be whole.
I wonder how could I steal that wound to make it my own.
I squeeze the glass in my hand 'til it cracks.
I sit in place, I'm biting my fingernails.
I spill the wine, I'm grinding my teeth 'til they break.
Written as she was coping with an auto-immune disease, the new EP from Rachel Angel offers hushed, silvery ’50s-style Americana. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 23, 2020
Tightly wound post-punk with splashes of new wave; heavy on twangy riffs, phased-out melodies, and understated vocals. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 2, 2023