Mold stands distinct as one of Snake’s slowest and sparsest songs, even in the company of cuts like Casual Sex and Empty Space. The anxious, disjointed thud of an acoustic guitar serves as the sole accompaniment for nearly the entire track, pushing Polley’s already haunting lyrics into a deep, funer...
[Verse 1]
It's the fever in the fog
It's the number that you call
When you're hardening in the mold
When you're hardening in the mold
It's the numbing in your head
It's that feeling that you're dead
When you're hardening in the mold
When you're hardening in the mold
[Refrain]
And you'll breathe
Down my neck
And forget
And the pain will come in waves
And I've burned under your gaze
It's too late
[Verse 2]
There's exhaustion in your eyes
Collapse into your old disguise
When you're hardening in the mold
When you're hardening in the mold
And your kiss is laced with salt
Past processions of assault
When you're hardening in the mold
When you're hardening in the mold
[Refrain]
And you'll breathe
Down my neck
And forget
And the pain will come in waves
And I've burned down to your gaze
It's too late
And you'll breathe
Down my neck
And forget
And the pain will come in waves
And I've burned down to your gaze
It's too late
Mold was written by Shanna Polley.
Mold was produced by Shanna Polley.