F. carpe diem
Paper singles
We've got vinyl brains and broken record tongues
We're either "under the..." or "the top..." gun
We're either "under the..." or "the top..." gun
An open arm, extended hand, pointed finger
"Why, this boy can't be a singer."
This smeared ink may become more than words for ghosts
Love is loud
We've got no windows down
Stay alive to live
Don't live to stay alive
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