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 everytime you're gone,

I wish that you'd come back.



And everyone watched me waste myself,

and everyone cheared at last.

And all of them found it comforting.

It's better it's me, then them.



I think I'm doing well from what they say,

They've taken both my belts

And shoelaces away.

But I believe in luck...

I think I do.

Well I believe for sure,

If ever I see you.



've been fanning flames from these old coals.

Feeding them with tender, and hoping they will grow.

And I've been savoring 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.

Cleanning it with salt, so it will still feel new.