Teksty: At The Drive-In. This Station Is Non-Operational. Pick Pocket.

In the humble stence of nativity hummed the smell of television snow a faint S.O.S. flickering riding on the coattails of their ground zero neighborhood footprints ingrown the daylight savings time will never know of this alabaster cold your lovers quarrel ended up in crawspace dental identities will tell us apart teeth marked and bounded with sighs step into my parlor said the spider to the fly stable hooved footprints ingrown cloak and dagger muzak blared in ohms in this alabaster cold ingrown more calibur per capita breakfast table search team implodes the milk cartons that pour will never know of this alabaster cold