& Songtext
von Pinegrove

Hand over hand
I′m pulling myself together
On this itchy couch again
I'd pull you in, but I couldn′t help thinking
Or my mouth was tarpaulin


Let me start again
I didn't mean to say so
Much about my plans
So you see my hand
See? It's never either-or now
Stigmata ampersand

The morning is the self, it′s self-evident
A clattering of blinds
A mimetic wind
A sympathetic tremor
I′m a tessela of signs

Oh, I close my eyes
And fractal inner rings of varicose resign
Coiled dark inside
I'll open my eyes and clear my
Throat when I know it′s time