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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

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