I LOVE MY ANGEL'S PLASTIC WINGS 

I love my angel's plastic wings, she loves my nice tight arse and things, 
She pawned her harp somewhere off Dalston Lane to buy A Love Supreme by John Coltrane,
She said Heaven's OK but it gets as boring as sin 
and here those red Rothko sunrises just do her in.... 
She wears these contact-lenses make her look like a cat, 
she said I'm made out of moonlight I said I didn't know that.... 
The crippled fibre-glass kid with his collection-box, 
she brought him to life so he could see how it rocks, 
He flung himself nine floors off a roof, landed face-down on a passport-photo booth.... 
She's got a job waiting tables, she moves like a hearse, 
She said all angels are romantics but then devils are worse, 
She wears a dog-tag from a soldier killed in Vietnam, 
She's got Viva Eddie Constantine tattooed on her arm, 
And the mission-girls bring gifts of frankincense, myrrh and smack, 
But she's got everything she needs, she's an angel, she don't look back, 
She's got perfect rhythm, sometimes we fuck to a click-track.... 
There's skateboarders twirling in the plaza, 
A slasher-movie trailer on the pixelboard, 
There's a backpacker punching at a laptop 
And they're searching through a carwreck for an angel.... 
I call her name from the rooftops through a megaphone, 
I see women looking like her and I follow them home, 
Last night I thought I saw her on the ferris-wheel, 
God's locked like Elvis in His mansion, it's hard to tell how he feels, 
So I stay home and play my bubblegum, listening for those wingbeats that never ever come, 
On Lambeth Bridge the cars are queueing tail-to-tail, 
I'm gonna storm the walls of Heaven, hitch me a ride on some comet's tail....