Acknowledge troubles. Event Mode on.
Pop music about a god i don't believe in permeates b-cam
Double-dip, let's take a swim in some circuits.
Faulty wiring, shock and transposed, I can't hit that note.
Walk me through it.
There's some kind of resistance here.
A little bit of friction
And I don't have enough feet to walk in so many directions
All at the same time-
"They're making you guys look like a bunch of thugs."
Interfacing is a crisis of ideology and I find myself mute
In the face of trying to remember channel checks.
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