Wounded Head

How this feels like a floating

For the physical form you crave

And the gentle reminders

Hovering still the same



For the curative portion

The dysthymic of bold and blue

You are softened and hollow

Reflecting this winter hue



Wounded head

You will be fine

Your weary legs

Will hold you in time



So you open the window

Wipe the gray from your salted eyes

Feel the string that once broken

Mended and slowly tied



Hope for remedies comfort

For the listless and looming moon

And the ghost of your father

Follow you home no more



Let water run through

Won't you open your eyes?

Let water run through



Wounded head

You will be fine

Your weary legs

Will hold you in time



Wounded head

You will be fine

Your weary legs

Will hold you in time