| Now I rush to the finger of light |
| I guess I tore my head off |
| I hope there’s something waiting for me |
| To make my exit pay-off |
| Taste and smell and touch |
| Have faded from pollution |
| As a last resort I chose the stupidest solution |
| The first thing I did when I got in gate |
| Was crank up the left-hand dial |
| I got there first |
| The track star seemed to take a while |
| Now I can dance like Nureyev |
| With these wings on my body |
| St. Peter complains that it’s too loud down in the lobby |
| And I hear the voice of God |
| He’s brillant on the microphone |
| And the radio in heaven |
| Can make a heathen feel at home |
| All these notes flying out play havoc with my heart |
| Every word sung is both emotional & smart |
| There’s a gorgeous sunset |
| Happening on the airwaves |
| I really want you to hear this song one day |
| So you behave |
| And I hear the voice of God |
| He’s brillant on the microphone |
| And the radio in heaven |
| Can make a heathen feel at home |
| At home |