Thirteen Senses:
The Salt Wound Routine (official lyrics)

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 

When you call out a line faces drop in to 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't see 

Could prison cells being in my brain
Well they're safe inside the cover of a dirty face
And everybody finds a college graduate with joy
Well I'm happy just sipping tonic water with lemon and lime 

When you call out a line faces drop in to 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't see 

Is it at home up late at night
When it's beginning to arrive
And honestly I don't see the need for any routines
I'm all out of sync
I cover my cuts and hope they are fixed 
Before I get hurt again

And all this ground beneath my feet has decided now to crumble into the sea
I walked in a house it smelt of paint
And the ceiling it has no trouble with me


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