punch-drunk punk rock romance
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
i just wanted to be a big star
didn't mean to squeeze to fucking 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
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
i just wanted to be a big star
didn't mean to squeeze to fucking 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