Every Sunday, God wakes up to everybody's problems -- all those voices asking for forgiveness. Half asleep, he waves his hand to quickly mass-absolve them, wondering why he constantly relives this.... I don't want to take that time away from someone who might really need a sign from God that day.
Angel Michael on his knees, trying to find the time to help us...I don't need such expertise. I could never be that selfish. Isn't there a minor angel, not an angel one might miss? I can talk to, I can turn to, there to handle this?
Sunday morning in the choir, I'm the one who's singing off-key. By my bedside in the darkness, I will sing my prayers so softly. Isn't there a lonely angel, not an angel fully booked? I can call on, I can sing to, someone overlooked? Just one angel, angel only I can see, watching over me?
Sometimes when my heart is full, it makes me feel a bit frenetic. Fallen angel takes the bullet...wouldn't that be so poetic? Isn't there a private angel, unremembered, underused? Second angel, no one's angel, someone God excused? Just one angel, angel only I can see, watching over me?
All those days and nights God slaved to give us creature comforts. Why would we have free will, if he thought we'd always call? Maybe it's a lack of sleep that keeps him feeling vengeful. Maybe he'd be sweet and soft, if he could have his Sundays off.
Just one angel, angel only I can see, watching over me?