| We couldn’t stay awake
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| Counting from one hundred
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| Complete strangers in the windows of a train headed for derailment
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| «Man, what a pitiful dream.» |
| you turned and said to me
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| «I swear to God I could hear static in their screams, their faces cut from
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| magazines»
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| Divide
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| A makeshift identity pulsing like a cable release
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| Handprints waving on the station tile remind us of existence
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| We play hostage to the glow, burying our heads in the feed
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| Throw us to the jaws of our own device
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| Throw us to the jaws of our own device
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| Throw us to the jaws of our own device
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| Now we laugh at our despair
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| Shaking on display for a crowd
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| «Watch me now as I am mangled by the dogs
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| Go on, take your cameras out»
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| Your pick-me-up; |
| I drown
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| Your pick-me-up; |
| I drown
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| We couldn’t find a way out of this pollution
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| Our days are numbered, scratched into the paint
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| Full disintegration
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| «Man, what a pitiful dream» you turned and said to me
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| «I swear to God I could I hear static as they screamed»
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| «Is anybody listening?» |