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