This Old Wound

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 that you’re gone
I wish that you’d come back

And everyone watched me waste myself
And everyone cheered at last
And all of them found it comforting
Its better it’s me then them.

I think I’m doing well from what they say
They’ve taken both my belt and shoelaces away
Well I believe in luck
I think I do
Well I 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 savoring
What I can’t hold
A blind belief in goodness
That doesn’t seem to show

But I’ve been bleeding well
From this old wound
Cleaning it with salt,
So it will still feel new