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