oh, my friend, with the stolen spare key,
I found you out in your long brown coat.
Your red shocks I caught stealing from me,
your hands are sticky with orange crush.
My lover saw that his top was gone,
red paint gleaming in another's eye.
Why, why, why did you take our things?
He didn't know, he gave me back my keys.
I never told you that I could fly,
fill my lungs, and rise behind you.
I want you to think that I'm an angel come down,
to judge you for what you did wrong.
He never knew Gabriel could kick so hard.
Followed him through the long back yard,
kicked his sex into applesauce,
recounted to him his human flaws.
Oh, but then a grave thought occurred to me.
My legs went stiff as a cherry tree.
To the untrained eye he was a monk in spring,
to me he's a beggar on the street.
He said the length of my gown is a mighty thing.
It makes me a man of mystery.
My soul has done well with your martyring,
so with your grace I am a newborn king.
He priested himself with a cross so slight,
it sank inside him like a day in night.
And no one mistakes him for a royal flush.
He washed his hands of the orange crush.
I nailed myself in a grave again.
i burned myself with a righteous flame,
I wanted to think I was an angel come down
to judge you for what you did wrong.
