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