momus
the angels are voyeurs
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