The Saint of Orleans

sunday morning angel blue wings and purple hair fingers tattooed at the tip of her shoulder if the sun vacates your skies it's over children sing songs of burgundy rovers I am your rent my lover camel crushes rated your sweet plushes crowded voices but no one hushes the chaos is lovely but it's the misery that touches my sunday morning angel arched smiles a mother apart from her child it's been a while since you last foul you're just a number on speed dial outside the cafe a voice some what raspy a favor indeed if you choose to ask me deflower before me and life just may not last me city towers you and me minus the hours in the neon lights walk the stars that fail to touch the sky's apartment 1210 where art thou twelve sinners the cellos that failed everyday men the displacements only seen through a heavens lens the saint of Orleans bard windows crucify your friends i'll lend you a noose to tie your ends and when it all ends think of my sunday morning angel she never warned you of danger but she adored the insanity within your anger my sunday morning angel is like loving a widower you never know what's on the other side of the window buildings that touch the sky ceilings that never die capsize the truth baptize whatever you knew there was a time it was just me and you "songs in a book reflect vacancy"