My lover's got humour

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshipped her sooner

If the heavens ever did speak

I forgive you

She is the last true mouthpiece

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week

We were born sick

You heard them say it

My church offers no absolutions

She tells me: Worship in the bedroom

The only heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you

let there be light

I was born sick, but I love it

Command me to be well

Ah, amen, amen, amen

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog

At the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins

So you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog

At the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins

So you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

If I'm a pagan of the good times

My lover is the sunlight