Who's afraid of dying
I'm just afraid of bleeding
Tears of fear I'm crying
And my mama I am needing
The pilot assures us
It's merely an airpocket
Satan can you save us
I've got a soul I'll hock it
Don't give me statistics
Statistics I'm not buying
I'd rather cross the street
Newton wasn't lying
Strewn along some runway
Or squashed against some mountain
There are so many other ways
I'd rather go and count them