Thirteen Senses - Salt Wound Routine

 (versiyon 1)
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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



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



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



© UNIVERSAL MUSIC PUBL. LTD.;















		
			



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