Kelly/Mann)



I can barely keep a grip on the pen I hold

Better get a grip on myself I'm told

I've grown bitterly, shameslessly,

indescribably cold



I dove well into my cups

And wrote you a note full of

wonderful smut

The things I'll do to you for us will be



Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Angel



The A to Z sits like the bible on the dash

Of our van that must've once carried bread

Oh, my splitting head



In Cockermouth we heard the sound of one hand clapping

The other twenty-three were busy

drinking and smoking away

Great clouds of grey



Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Angel



Well I miss you

Everytime I try and call

We're off to Carlisle

To steal a piece of Hadrian's Wall



From the Solway Firth

Stretching out to the North Sea

I miss you

My phone card says that's all from my



Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Anjil