She's laughing and laughing,
and her eyes are so dilated,
it's a wonder she can see the stars.
But it's okay, (and I'm no scientist either,)
See? We're okay
And don't you see it coming now?
Our angel, all in white.
It's coming to take us away.
Past the atmosphere.
(all that greenhouse shit that'll soon enough kill us)
Up to her stars.
And then it won't matter how small our pupils are,
or how many holes in our arms,
because no one will wonder how the light from the
ball of gas
wandered into our druggie sockets,
or the heat to our junkie bones.