7 is Low

I found my pleasure
On a silver plate
And you were late
For your escape
Down

I ripped the wings
Off of a golden plane
And the pilot was dead
He couldn't save anyone

And I woke up this morning
And you felt cold
Never felt so cold
And I was in mourning
But my soul folds
To your hand that's gold

They don't know that I'll be running
They don't know that I'm the gunman
They don't know that I'll be running out

And I woke up this morning
And you felt cold
Never felt so cold
And I was in mourning
But my soul folds
To your hand that's gold

And I woke up this morning
And you felt cold
Never felt so cold
And I was in mourning
But my soul folds
To your hand that's gold