Thin skin gets you nothing but love-sore,
You can wipe yourself clean, but you’ll mess up like before,
Strut in my direction and let me slip into your clothes

And I saw she undressed, 
The tattoo on her breast of black willow,
I took her number from the back of a newspaper
Next to the obituary,
I knew I might need it later

The wicked rain poured hard upon the lane,
Where no roses, only thorns grow,
Said, “Won’t you ring the tease out of my cold black willow?”
She said, “Taste the poison, but don’t finish your drink yet”

She tied me up, then she went out for cigarettes,
Why must we suffer for love?
Why must we love to suffer?

Maybe friction makes the flame,
It’s why we die to tame each other,
Cheap talkers don’t make the phone ring,
And heavy sleepers don’t break the bed strings

Interventions of the flash, where our bodies get pressed
As she crawled into the window,
For the curtains, they were drawn,
In the morning she was gone,
Black willow

And so the story goes
Until the bitter end,
Two shots of bourbon, and I’m back on the road again

Where does the man begin, where does the animal end,
Will I ever know?
I think about it every day,
And I try to get away,
Black willow