I'm not watching anyone
Or listening for a sign
We all arrive too late to the party
Our friends had all gone home
The listless follower
A lexicon of days that we created

Heaven is filled
With models and pills
And all the pretty things
That make you kill

This chance is everywhere
You hear it everyday
They're asking for the best of the belated
I went to find you there
We'll make a great escape
If nothing ever runs the way we planned then

Heaven is filled
With models and pills
And all the pretty things
That make you kill
Make you kill