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 f___ing tragedy of 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.

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