For all I care you could be an angel lying upon a cloud,
but I’d still breach the mighty heavens to desecrate your wings.
I’d hold this gift far enough from your grasp to keep your begging hands.
You see,
I know the formula for getting what I want.
If it’s all the same, if it’s where I belong…
then I’ve made quite a mess of things.
If it’s innocent, then it’s where I belong….
we’ve made quite a mess of things.
And I am everything you want…
all you held out for.
Is this what is was, all you held out for?
O harlot, pure of heart.
Pure of heart, is this passion compassion.
Press on, press on, we will press on.