[Verse 1 - Calibration] I live behind the glass she banished, quicksilver married into tin. Close your hand around me--I divide and slip between. Hold me longer than a reading, and I begin to hold you back. Every old and silvered mirror keeps a little of me in. She keeps her parlor faceless so nobody checks the glass. I show what stands beside you-- and what casts nothing back. I don't flatter. I don't choose. I give the measure back. [Chorus - Three Registers] I read the fever in your blood, degree by degree. I read the pressure falling-- the storm you cannot see. I read the tilt beneath your feet before you feel it lean. Keep me where the glass can hold me. I measure. You decide. [Verse 2 - Level And Line] I've kept three narrow houses-- fever glass, weather glass, and line. No silk can make a crooked room sit level on my line. Call the room whatever suits you. My reading keeps its place. No sweeter name can level it or square a leaning frame. Millimeters rising tell you what your pulse would rather hide. When my column drops before the storm, the coat's your call to make. That's no omen. That's a reading. I measure. You decide. [Verse 3 - Cost Of Contact] I've stood beside the body's fire. It is worth staying alive. But hold me close, I'll hollow you and make a hatter of your mind. The measure isn't medicine. Read it. Write it down. [Final Chorus - Instrument Depersonalized] Read the fever in your blood. Read the pressure falling. Read the tilt beneath your feet before the whole room leans. Keep the measure in its glass. It measures. You decide. [Outro - Glass Hum, Final Click] Keep one mirror in the hallway. Keep the level and the line. She turns her hourglass over. My column holds its line. If your mirror has gone missing, the empty wall won't lie.
