You Know Whos Seatbelt - text
The signal flares will light the way to the scene of the accident, where
we'll dance like a pile of teeth in a broken mouth. Such a sick celebration.
Everyone loves a fucking tragedy in epic proportions. Lets set our hearts at
self-destruct. Like scarlet drips on a white tile floor. A cardiac
metronome. We'll scrape the guardrail from our teeth and start again.
There's a flood in the infirmary where we'll swim through broken glass. Our
prosthetic limbs will keep us afloat. Lets set our hearts at self-destruct.
Pass The Flask
- Red Wedding
- You Know Whos Seatbelt
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- Spitshine Sonata
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