Salt Wound Routine Lyrics - Invitation - Thirteen Senses

Red letters on the dashboard, oh what a gap 

They pursue us to the deep end and then depart 

Watch as the cracks in the wall feel pain 

For only patterns on a snake's back give us genuine fear 

And I cannot lie, faces drop into the fire 

I get by all the time on a shelf above the door 

And it shouldn't be clear but it's not for me to decide 

It's a delicate degree, it's a number I can see 

Could prison cells be in my brain 

For they're safe inside the cover of a dirty face 

And everybody finds a college graduate with joy 

While I'm happy just sipping tonic water with lemon and lime 

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And I cannot lie, faces drop into the fire 

I get by all the time on a shelf above the door 

And it shouldn't be clear but it's not for me to decide 

It's a delicate degree, it's a number I can see 

You sit at home up late at nights 

When it's beginning to arrive 

And honestly, I don't see the need for any routines 

I'm all out of sink, I cover my cuts 

And hope they are fixed before I get hurt again 

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And all this ground beneath my feet 

Has decided not to crumble into the sea 

I walked in a house, it smelt of paint 

And the ceiling it has no trouble with me