One-Third on the Right

Well, I could touch but I can't feel you
Sit and hope this ember burns right through
Wish to feel what's taken, but mostly only what's brand new
Scrape at what's left, I'm muddled up
Nothing much of me to reft
Find an excuse to collar up
I feel like a patient in the lung (I'm not moving)
What is left of a thought after it is hung (These times still change)
Face down in shallow dirty water
(I think I'm feeling what's brand new)
Trying to somehow see clear with a head caught up in yesteryear

With conclusion pulled taut
I'm feeling tension in my own expressions
I feel sick at the feet of your confessions, I felt sick, I felt sick

I feel like a patient in the lung (I'm not moving)
What is left of a thought after it is hung (These times still change)
Face down in shallow dirty water
(I think I'm feeling what's brand new)
Trying to somehow see clear with a head caught up in yesteryear