Song 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

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

Adam Michael Wilson, Brendon Arthur James, Thomas William George Welham, William David South

The duration of The Salt Wound Routine is 3:54 minutes and seconds.