Pressed The Seven Sequenced Silver Panic Buttons,

The Distress Calls That Fall On A Distracted Short-wave Signal.

A Metronome Timed To My Panic Stricken Breathing

And A Pulse Conducted By Our Dying Lines.

You Said My Heart Sounded Like A Payphone In The Rain.

Distorted, Distant, Scrambled And Desperate.

Baby, I Swear To God Tonight I Am Sober.

It's The Reception Between Us That's Failing.

Everything's Coming Out All Frenzied And Confused.

She's Got What It Takes To Make Collapsing A Habit

And A Dance Out Of A Tantrum Fit (it's Tragic But I Am Sobering Up).

Pick Up The Phone.

Tonight I Feel Like The Hero Of A Rusting War.

My Touch Has The Timing And Precision Of A Car Wreck.

No Use Translating The Trembles.

They're Symptoms Of Repetitive Testing For Fluctuation.

If I Come Back Home, I Am Bringing Back The Bends.

So Give Me A Kiss. Let Me Taste The Reptilian Appeal.

Say It Again Baby. Does It Turn You On? Does It Get You Hot?

I Get A Little Hysterical Sometimes.

The Panic You Shouldn't Have Been So Sentimental.

All That Kicking And Screaming.

Everything I Touch Starts Peeling.

We Malfunction Like Machines.

Get Up Off The Floor And Answer The Phone.

I Want To Be A Big Star.

Didn't Want To Touch So Hard.

Open The Door.

I Am Your Deviant Satellite, An Orbit Defected By The Ballast Of Words.

You're The Reason For Collisions.

I Am Face Down Like A Sailor Washed Up Under Your Window.

Tonight Is A Shipwreck.

Navigating Through Disorder.

Now Every Electric Star Hums Like A Telecaster.

How Punk Rock Is That?

You're So Oblivious.

Baby, You're My Oblivion.