Cellular Live

Yeah? There's television. There's a television. She's speaking to me. There's a French girl On my television. She's crying In the palm of my hand. In Moving Mental, I read the paper, all just the photos. I rip one out with my hand. There's a massacre across the, Across the, across the, across the ocean. I can see it In the palm of my hand. They wouldn't discover the Massacre. Below the ground floor, We're losing signal. We've lost connection. I left her dying. She was still crying. Now she's lying In my head. Above the burning hills, I'm still flying. Next stop's morphine, but I'm riding To the end. What am I good for? I've got no signal. A burning image and a voice in my head. Very good. Very Good. down. Uh, we're gonna slow it down a bit