歌曲 | The Angels Are Voyeurs |
歌手 | Momus |
专辑 | Tender Pervert |
作词 : Momus | |
God is a tender pervert and the angels are voyeurs | |
Watching us forever, their vision never blurs | |
They make us then forget us for a hundred million years | |
And then by chance they glance at us and something in them stirs | |
They find us so provocative, so weak, so full of pride | |
Our cleverness, our nakedness, fills them with delight | |
The way we hold our coffee cups, the way we pick our words | |
God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
His angels are voyeurs | |
And when the tender pervert is too busy to admire us | |
He sends his angels down to pass amongst us and desire us | |
He gives them little notebooks where they note each quirk and boast | |
Our foolish pride and pompousness turn him on the most | |
When we're throwing temper tantrums | |
When we're giving up the ghost | |
The pervert keeps his distance | |
But his angels, his angels move in close | |
It intoxicates the Spaceman, watching how we thrill ourselves | |
Not by sex but by devising new ways to kill ourselves | |
He sees the way we tamper with the things we most depend on | |
The danger stands his hair on end and gives him a hard-on | |
He calls his angels down to watch that slut the world get hers | |
God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
His angels are voyeurs | |
The pervert and his angels hide amongst the stars and watch | |
And as we blow ourselves to bits the angels pump their cocks | |
Their semen flows across the sky and forms new milky wheys | |
And somewhere in some galaxy in less than seven days | |
They make a planet more curvaceous and much sexier than ours | |
Full of bigger sinners | |
More worthy of voyeurs |
zuò cí : Momus | |
God is a tender pervert and the angels are voyeurs | |
Watching us forever, their vision never blurs | |
They make us then forget us for a hundred million years | |
And then by chance they glance at us and something in them stirs | |
They find us so provocative, so weak, so full of pride | |
Our cleverness, our nakedness, fills them with delight | |
The way we hold our coffee cups, the way we pick our words | |
God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
His angels are voyeurs | |
And when the tender pervert is too busy to admire us | |
He sends his angels down to pass amongst us and desire us | |
He gives them little notebooks where they note each quirk and boast | |
Our foolish pride and pompousness turn him on the most | |
When we' re throwing temper tantrums | |
When we' re giving up the ghost | |
The pervert keeps his distance | |
But his angels, his angels move in close | |
It intoxicates the Spaceman, watching how we thrill ourselves | |
Not by sex but by devising new ways to kill ourselves | |
He sees the way we tamper with the things we most depend on | |
The danger stands his hair on end and gives him a hardon | |
He calls his angels down to watch that slut the world get hers | |
God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
His angels are voyeurs | |
The pervert and his angels hide amongst the stars and watch | |
And as we blow ourselves to bits the angels pump their cocks | |
Their semen flows across the sky and forms new milky wheys | |
And somewhere in some galaxy in less than seven days | |
They make a planet more curvaceous and much sexier than ours | |
Full of bigger sinners | |
More worthy of voyeurs |