Nate Bucher - 7 is Low lyrics

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