Low Heaven

"I'm sorry; I mean I knew that people died
 But... I knew people died... but... but... all... all these people dying and uh... I... I feel bad... I know... I'm here... I have the disease"
 In not
 Wanting to have their eyes pennied
 Or a
 bone shown broken to the open air
 they're...
 praying for their lucky stars
 they're praying for their lucky stars
 they're praying for their lucky stars to shoot...
 they're...
 praying for their lucky stars
 they're praying for their lucky stars
 they're praying for their lucky stars to shoot...
 We remain such gluttons for the generous threat of being,
 supreme being safed or susceptible...
 subject to a man mold maker with a tendency toward the more dramatic side of everything
 We are...
 Flattered I'm sure,
 And what does modern child mistakenly chalkup
 to the humongous homogenous win column of god
 The swapping of a dearest dead pet for a fresh one...
 finding someone else's wallet or a snow day
 They're threatening their lucky stars...
 They're threatening their lucky stars...
 They're threatening their lucky stars to shoot...
 They're threatening their lucky stars...
 They're threatening their lucky stars...
 They're threatening their lucky stars to shoot...
 They're threatening their lucky stars...
 They're threatening their lucky stars...
 They're threatening their lucky stars to shoot...