God is in the universe, far beyond our reach, where silence has been playing for a thousand centuries.
You fell upon your knees and begged me for a chance
You claimed you were a singer, some kind of modern muse
You offered me your flesh and lust and took away my pain
You were the one I had been waiting for,
The dirty knock on the holy door
I took your flesh and I bound your hands
I replaced your song with a bloody bruise
I opened the archive of my swollen name
I broke your neck and cracked your spine
I let your grief mingle with mine
We fell together, two for one
Look at what these hands have done
A torn song and a naked priest
A shallow grave for the deepest grief
Robert Spiers, pushed into a locker
The lad, laughing in this bully scene
And the news at ten with our kid, Jarvis Cocker
Who could beat up Michael Jackson, but never Morrissey.
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