I've been bleeding well, from this old wound
Cleaning it with salt, so it will still feel new
Sometimes eyes turn black
And sometimes scars are tracks
But every time you're gone
I wish that you'd come back
And everyone watched me waste myself
And everyone cheered at last
All of them found it comforting
It's better it's me, than them
I think I'm doing well, from what they say
They've taken both my belt, and shoe-laces away
But I believe in luck, I think I do
But I'll believe for sure
If ever I see you
I've been fanning flames, from these old coals
Feeding them with tender
And hoping they will grow
And I've been savouring what I can't hold
A blind belief in goodness, that doesn't seem to show
And I've been bleeding well, from this old wound
Cleaning it with salt, so it will still feel new
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