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Mook
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Dress My Wounds
with a cold brown ground
i remember
a certain fall
mother screams and calls
from the sink she saw
me fall, fall, fall
she thinks there's blood on my hands
but doesn't understand
how deep, deep, deep
she tries to help me stand
but we sink in the sand
neck deep, deep, deep
time grows stale and still
when waiting on the pil
to dress my wounds in my will
is this blood real
will i cease to feel
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now there's bareness all around
leaves mask the sound
and they fall
mother earth fades and rusts
as her child and us falls, falls, falls
mother doesn't know
its ok to slow down, down, down
yes i've dulled and dimmed
but there's a fire still within
deep down, down, down
time grows stale and still
when waiting on the pill
to dress my wounds in my will
is this blood real
will i cease to feel
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