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...