I'll tell you mine.
Sunday morning communion,
Standing in a line.
Feeling like a cannibal.
Eating flesh and drinking blood,
Disguised as wine.
I know some day we're gonna see
Wings spring out from your shoulders.
What kind of being are you?
For there are moments, upon moments, upon moments,
When you hardly seem to walk the Earth.
And I realize I've spent my whole life searching,
Searching for an angel.
For an angel.
So come tell me your story,
I'll tell you all.
Looking at Rococco statues,
And paintings on the wall,
Sitting up there high and mighty.
Was this Eden, was this hell?
I had to know.
I know some day we're gonna see
Wings spring out from your shoulders.
What kind of being are you?
For there are moments, upon moments, upon moments,
When you hardly seem to walk the Earth.
You're an angel
I know some day we're gonna see
Wings spring out from your shoulders.
What kind of being are you?
For there are moments, upon moments, upon moments,
When you hardly seem to walk the Earth.
And I realize I've spent my whole life searching,
Searching for an angel.
For an angel.
And I realize I've spent my whole life searching,
Searching for an angel.
For an angel.
For an angel.
Uh!
For an angel.
For an angel.
Adam Ant, Marco Pirroni & Boz Boorer