You stand tall. You think right. You’re pretty sure nothing is wrong with you. Until your hands they shake, and they can’t hold your cigarette. The lines begin to shift. You’re scared. You stand slight. Your lips curve so you hide the lack and keep the ones you love. Leave the life of lies and live alone. Be low, so the rest can raise up your heart of gold. Until your hands they shake, and they can’t hold your cigarette. At these strange lows, strangers seem to follow. Lead them where they cannot go. At these strange lows, quiet peace is hard to keep our own. In these stranger lows. Can you still picture the rabbit you followed? Do you still look up and feel small when you feel the thread that fate pulls along? Can you still picture the rabbit you followed? Do you look up and feel small? When you feel your luck stop, be afraid to get up. At these strange heights, the Lord looks up to find you. At these strange lows, strangers seem to follow. Lead them where they cannot go. At these strange lows quiet peace is hard to keep our own. At these stranger lows