Texty: Odd Project. The Second Hand Stopped. Statistics Like Cigarettes.

We lost ourselves in these bright lights and cigarettes. We became our charade. A classic primetime tragedy, so skin graphed, a romantically hopeless warpath. Statistically the cameras said. That lovers like us die, in car wrecks. Mathematically incorrect, you fuckers ain't seen nothin yet. And baby tonight we'll be the robots in the spotlight. We lost ourselves in these bright lights and cigarettes. We became our charade. A classic primetime tragedy, so skin graphed, a romantically hopeless warpath. Statistically the cameras set. And lovers like us die in car wrecks. A lack of evidence kept our names off the credits. Panegyrized masterminds, we directed this warped pantomime. And everything was just right, from your makup to the lights. Park the car baby quiet on the set. Trigger fingers entwined...I knew this was our time. This was our time, the poison burns my insides but ask me if i mind. And baby tonight, we'll be the robots in the spotlight and we'll break free of the programming. And the whole world will know of our love.