Trax: It's been awhile since I perused the static schematic...I've got barnacles on my barnyard.
Loca: Things that go bleep in the night? Are still sexy like edible underwear?
Trax: What is edible is the incredible bastard that I am.
Loca: But baby you always turn my turntable towards totalitarionisms.
Trax: You don't notice i programmed you to love me? Love is a dimension of projection. A protagonist's protagonistical project set in parenthesis.
Loca: Well I don't turn a blind eye or lopsided sensor to loving the good about you...
Trax: Don't you see that I'm flawed?
Loca: Baby even diamonds crack under enough pressure...
Trax: It's the wait sweety...it's driving me insane in a world without a supercosm.
Loca: Supercosm or not, macrocataclysmic is not a superlative sublimation.
Trax: that is what i think...everything would unravel and unwind if I die before my eventual hypothesis to life.
Loca: Well that is what I think kind of...but they say I might live forever!
Trax: Forever is blind to hindsight?
Loca: Not your past, but your present right now...it suddenly feels like the future is out of our grasps.
Trax: But I'm so close to payday I can subdue the chosen few. Forever is set in dimensions of dead president's to most.
Loca: Lucky for you I'm an android...so I don't get impatient!
Trax: Yeah life is like a lovable lullaby...to sleep is to recharge your soul and my soul slips into a song state.
Loca: Oh yeah sing me the melody?
Trax: Pardon my french, but you are an android.
Loca: I said sing to me!
Trax: "If love was a computer I wouldn't need to reboot her, so I love your keys to epiphony and diaphony rolled into binary bliss. That was my thought, so give me a kiss!"
Loca: Blah, blah, blah, inkblot...how many bottles of beer on the lost haul?
Trax: How many licks to my binary crop?
Loca: Or just get a fucking haircut already...
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