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 cheered at last
And 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 belts
And shoelaces away
But 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

And I've been bleeding well from this old wound
Cleaning it with salt, so it will still feel new