Woorden: Flaming Lips. Zaireeka. Thirty-Five Thousand Feet of Despair.

Another moth disintegrates
Hovering in the beam
Of a searchlight

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?