Now I rush to the fingers of light

I guess I tore my head off

I hope there's something waiting for me

to make my exit pay-off

taste and smell and touch

have faded from pollution

as a last resort I chose the stupidest solution





The first thing I did when I got in the gate

was crank up the left-hand dial

I got there frist the track star seemed to take a while

Now I can dance like Nureyev

with these wings on my body

St. Peter complains that it's too loud down in the lobby





And I hear the voice of God

He's brilliant on the microphone

and the radio in heaven

can make a heathen feel at home





All these notes flying out play havoc with my heart

every word sung is both emotional and smart

There's a gorgeous sunset

happening on the airwaves

I really want you to hear this song one day

so you behave





And I hear the voice of God

He's brilliant on the microphone

and the radio in heaven

can make a heathen feel at home

at home