The signal flares will light the way to the scene of the accident, where    we'll dance like a pile of teeth in a broken mouth. Such a sick celebration.    Everyone loves a fucking tragedy in epic proportions. Lets set our hearts at    self-destruct. Like scarlet drips on a white tile floor. A cardiac    metronome. We'll scrape the guardrail from our teeth and start again.    There's a flood in the infirmary where we'll swim through broken glass. Our    prosthetic limbs will keep us afloat. Lets set our hearts at self-destruct.