I'm not watching anyone
or listening for a sign
we all arrived too late to the party
our friends had all gone home
the listless follow up
a lexicon of days
that we created

heaven is filled
with models and pills 
and all the pretty things
that make you kill

there's chances everywhere
you hear it everyday
they're asking for the best of the belated
I went to find you then
"we'll make a great escape 
if nothing ever runs the way we planned it"

heaven is filled
with models and pills
and all the pretty things
that made you kill