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.
 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.