This white.
This black.
Where do I find you?
How do I reach for you?
180 minutes.
And my heart beats a million times faster;
just for you.
Your touch isn't around.
I reach and digtially feel.
Oh phone, oh computer--
--I've had enough.
When will your titanium start to feel like skin?
When will your plastic begin to feel like love?
When will the screen start to revile the truth?
Love 180 away
It starts and ends my day. . .
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