Thirty-Five Thousand Feet of Despair

The Flaming Lips

Compositor: The Flaming Lips

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?