Pagan Angel And A Borrowed Car
Love was a promise made of smokeIn a frozen copse of treesA bone cold and older than our bodiesSlowly floating in the seaEvery morning there were planesThe shiny blades of pagan angels in our father's skiesEvery evening I would watch her hold the pillowTight against her hollows, her unholy childI was still a beggar shaking out my stolen coatAmong the angry cemetery leavesWhen they caught the king beneath the borrowed carRighteous, drunk, and fumbling for the royal keys
Love was a father's flag and sung like a shankIn a cake on our leather bootsA beautiful feather floating downTo where the birds had shit on empty chapel pewsEvery morning we found one more machineTo mock our ever waning patience at the wellEvery evening she'd descend the mountain stealing socksAnd singing something good where all the horses fellLike a snake within the wilted garden wallI'd hint to her every possibilityWhile with his gun the pagan angel rose to say"My love is one made to break every bended knee"