pressed the seven sequenced silver panic buttons,
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the distress calls that fall on a distracted short-wave signal.
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a metronome timed to my panic stricken breathing
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and a pulse conducted by our dying lines.
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you said my heart sounded like a payphone in the rain.
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distorted, distant, scrambled and desperate.
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baby, i swear to god tonight i am sober.
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it's the reception between us that's failing.
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everything's coming out all frenzied and confused.
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she's got what it takes to make collapsing a habit
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and a dance out of a tantrum fit (it's tragic but i am sobering up).
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pick up the phone.
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tonight i feel like the hero of a rusting war.
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my touch has the timing and precision of a car wreck.
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no use translating the trembles.
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they're symptoms of repetitive testing for fluctuation.
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if i come back home, i am bringing back the bends.
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so give me a kiss. let me taste the reptilian appeal.
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say it again baby. does it turn you on? does it get you hot?
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i get a little hysterical sometimes.
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the panic you shouldn't have been so sentimental.
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all that kicking and screaming.
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everything i touch starts peeling.
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we malfunction like machines.
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get up off the floor and answer the phone.
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i want to be a big star.
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didn't want to touch so hard.
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open the door.
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i am your deviant satellite, an orbit defected by the ballast of words.
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you're the reason for collisions.
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i am face down like a sailor washed up under your window.
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tonight is a shipwreck.
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navigating through disorder.
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now every electric star hums like a telecaster.
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how punk rock is that?
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you're so oblivious.
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baby, you're my oblivion.
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-----------------
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Punch-Drunk Punk Rock Romance
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Every Time I Die |