About the song
One man wound like a clock, aging across a single take — from the first sound he makes to the empty room at the end.
Turn the key and count to seven, one turn out for each man he'll be
About these notes
AI-assisted song notes, based on the sources shown here. Not yet human-reviewed.
Words from the artist’s archive
WOUND TO WALK lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Verse 1
First sound out of him is a demand he cannot name. A fist that shuts on nothing and believes it holds the world. They weigh him, band his wrist, and write a number on a card. A fork is struck above the crib and he is tuned to that. Nobody asks the borrower to sign.
Verse 2
Shoes a size too big so he can grow into the loss. He takes the long way to a bell he has to answer twice. Chalk on the cuff, ink on the thumb. A sum he cannot defend. The first debt anybody hands him is an hour of his own, and he learns to spend it slow and call that getting even.
Chorus
Turn the key and count to seven, one turn out for each man he'll be, wound in a room he won't remember, give it back the way it came.
Verse 3
Now he writes a page and a half about the way she says his name, builds a furnace in his chest and calls the smoke devotion. He would trade the years he has not even counted yet for one more hour of being looked at like a promise. The fork is on the table and he cannot hear it going flat.
Verse 4
The snare arrives. He answers it before he hears the question. Boots that fit at last. A flag he did not sew. Swears on a word he has never once looked up, chases a reputation into ground that will not hold it, mistakes the noise around him for being needed. Somebody far away is filing his name under useful.
Chorus
Turn the key and count to seven, one turn out for each man he'll be, half the spring is gone already, give it back the way it came.
Verse 5
He has a good coat now, a stomach that agrees with him, a bench, a file, a pen that only travels one direction. A stitch in time, he says, and lets the rest go stale. Sentences the boy he was for doing what he did, and calls the echo wisdom because it comes back in his voice.
Bridge
The good coat hangs on him like it belongs to a bigger man. Glasses on a cord. A chair that knows his shape. The voice that swore the oath comes back up boyish, asking the room the one question, twice. Shoes a size too big again, and nothing left to grow.
Chorus
Turn the key. It counts to one. Nothing left to wind but him. Hold the note until it thins, give it back the way it came.
Outro
Give it back the way it came A fist that shuts on nothing and believes it holds the world.
Inside the recording
First sound out of him is a demand he cannot name. A fist that shuts on nothing and believes it holds the world.
Turn the key and count to seven, one turn out for each man he'll be,
Give it back the way it came A fist that shuts on nothing and believes it holds the world.
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.