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...



Credits
Writer(s): Jeffrey Logan, Adam Drucker, Dax Pierson, Markus Acher, Michael Anton Acher, Martin Gretschmann
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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