Salts to Mine is the type of song that makes you think of teenage lovers from the 50s torn apart by circumstance or overbearing parents who didn't like the boy because he had a bit too much Fonzie in him (read statutory raping). This obviously leads to him driving his car/motorcycle/Schwinn off the cliffs at inspiration point in a fiery death ball for all to see.
While it is not indicative of the rest of the album, which is a balls deep fuzzfest that leaves you sticky and aching, it is still a fun little ditty that takes you back to a time when getting stank on your finger was perceived as love. Guess what kids, it’s not. You need to get that stank on your face for it to count.