| It takes a call to make us face where we stop and start
|
| And in the mall, at the J.C. Penney where your mama works
|
| We drove across the state, halfway to Boston and the borderline
|
| You bought a map
|
| And the FTA (sic) searched your flight all night
|
| A one way arrow puts you on Air France
|
| Reverse the flow of time and your plane flies backwards
|
| Let it crash into Florida and kill my chance
|
| Standing on a desktop, screaming swear words
|
| Getting crushed at the night club
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| You’re drinking too much tea from Long Island toxins
|
| I see you dance to the Japanese dub
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| That you put in my head when we started talking
|
| We fight
|
| We’re sending out sabers through the satellites all night
|
| Through the AP wires and security networks
|
| Give light to your fiber-optic head
|
| It’s a mess of cables
|
| It’s a balled up fist
|
| And it’s angry at the concept of technology drift
|
| I open .txt files at the break of day
|
| .psd extension blasted
|
| Bleary eyes and a soulless sway
|
| I swagger out the door
|
| Yeah, I’m sure I’ve lost it
|
| Update your journal with a data disc
|
| I put it in your pack. |
| I don’t know where I tossed it
|
| I made a tape recording of the Boston bridge
|
| And sent as an attachment, but Friendster lost it
|
| Cell phone blinks like a night light grade
|
| I graduated twice, but I never lost it
|
| I’ll UPS a copy of my Xeroxed face
|
| I’ll send it overnight no matter what it costs
|
| And if a transport Boeing hits an Airbus jet
|
| From de Gaulle back to Logan
|
| Then I’ll know I’ve lost it
|
| .wav file whispers «Baby, scan my heart.»
|
| They’re cutting the connection
|
| I’ve already lost it
|
| Florencia Tropicana |