Texty: Senses Fail. Life Is Not a Waiting Room. Lungs Like Gallows.

I give blood to prove to myself
That I can matter to somebody else
Is what makes a man the dirt on his hands?
Don't put your faith in the desert sand

The wind is always blowing
There are gallows deep inside my lungs
That's where I hung ambition

Is it luck that's knocking right on my back door?
Because I've been breaking mirrors since 1984
I walk under ladders, I spill salt on sores
And I open my umbrella even when I am indoors
Give me seven more

I give blood not for the cause
But to slowly give up the person I was
Holding my breath won't help
Everything went to hell

So now I steal back pennies from the well
Because my wishes failed
I am screaming at my own shadow
To stop living like a ghost

Is it luck that's knocking right on my back door?
Because I've been breaking mirrors since 1984
I walk under ladders, I spill salt on sores
And I open my umbrella even when I am indoors
Give me seven more

I don't need her, I'm not that desperate
Come visit me in twenty years and maybe then
'Cause I'm not done screaming yet
You can call off the intervention
'Cause I don't need your attention

Is it luck that's knocking right on my back door?
Because I've been breaking mirrors since 1984
I walk under ladders, I spill salt on sores
And I open my umbrella even when I am indoors
Give me seven more

I don't need her, I'm not that desperate
I don't need her, I'm not that desperate