| Lyrics: | Kelly/Mann)
I can barely keep a grip on the pen I hold
Better get a grip on myself
I'm told
I've grown bitterly, shameslessly,
indescribably cold
I dove well into
my cups
And wrote you a note full of
wonderful smut
The things I'll do to you for
us will be
Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Angel
The A to Z sits
like the bible on the dash
Of our van that must've once carried bread
Oh, my splitting
head
In Cockermouth we heard the sound of one hand clapping
The other twenty-three
were busy
drinking and smoking away
Great clouds of grey
Heavenly, Angel,
Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Angel
Well I miss you
Everytime I try and call
We're off to Carlisle
To steal a piece of Hadrian's Wall
From the Solway
Firth
Stretching out to the North Sea
I miss you
My phone card says that's all from
my
Heavenly, Angel, Heavenly, Anjil |
