Flaming Lips (The)
Thirty-five Thousand Feet Of Despair
Another moth disintegrates
hovering in the beam of a searchlights
that's looking for a trace of a plane
whose pilot it's a shame has gone insane.
You can see the silhouette across the moon
he hung himself mid-flight in the bathroom.
Why is it so high?
Why is it so much?
From Letras Mania