The Angels Are Voyeurs Lyrics
| Song | The Angels Are Voyeurs |
| Artist | Momus |
| Album | Tender Pervert |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Momus | |
| God is a tender pervert and the angels are voyeurs | |
| Watching us forever, their vision never blurs | |
| They make us then forget us for a hundred million years | |
| And then by chance they glance at us and something in them stirs | |
| They find us so provocative, so weak, so full of pride | |
| Our cleverness, our nakedness, fills them with delight | |
| The way we hold our coffee cups, the way we pick our words | |
| God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
| His angels are voyeurs | |
| And when the tender pervert is too busy to admire us | |
| He sends his angels down to pass amongst us and desire us | |
| He gives them little notebooks where they note each quirk and boast | |
| Our foolish pride and pompousness turn him on the most | |
| When we're throwing temper tantrums | |
| When we're giving up the ghost | |
| The pervert keeps his distance | |
| But his angels, his angels move in close | |
| It intoxicates the Spaceman, watching how we thrill ourselves | |
| Not by sex but by devising new ways to kill ourselves | |
| He sees the way we tamper with the things we most depend on | |
| The danger stands his hair on end and gives him a hard-on | |
| He calls his angels down to watch that slut the world get hers | |
| God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
| His angels are voyeurs | |
| The pervert and his angels hide amongst the stars and watch | |
| And as we blow ourselves to bits the angels pump their cocks | |
| Their semen flows across the sky and forms new milky wheys | |
| And somewhere in some galaxy in less than seven days | |
| They make a planet more curvaceous and much sexier than ours | |
| Full of bigger sinners | |
| More worthy of voyeurs |
| zuo ci : Momus | |
| God is a tender pervert and the angels are voyeurs | |
| Watching us forever, their vision never blurs | |
| They make us then forget us for a hundred million years | |
| And then by chance they glance at us and something in them stirs | |
| They find us so provocative, so weak, so full of pride | |
| Our cleverness, our nakedness, fills them with delight | |
| The way we hold our coffee cups, the way we pick our words | |
| God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
| His angels are voyeurs | |
| And when the tender pervert is too busy to admire us | |
| He sends his angels down to pass amongst us and desire us | |
| He gives them little notebooks where they note each quirk and boast | |
| Our foolish pride and pompousness turn him on the most | |
| When we' re throwing temper tantrums | |
| When we' re giving up the ghost | |
| The pervert keeps his distance | |
| But his angels, his angels move in close | |
| It intoxicates the Spaceman, watching how we thrill ourselves | |
| Not by sex but by devising new ways to kill ourselves | |
| He sees the way we tamper with the things we most depend on | |
| The danger stands his hair on end and gives him a hardon | |
| He calls his angels down to watch that slut the world get hers | |
| God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
| His angels are voyeurs | |
| The pervert and his angels hide amongst the stars and watch | |
| And as we blow ourselves to bits the angels pump their cocks | |
| Their semen flows across the sky and forms new milky wheys | |
| And somewhere in some galaxy in less than seven days | |
| They make a planet more curvaceous and much sexier than ours | |
| Full of bigger sinners | |
| More worthy of voyeurs |
| zuò cí : Momus | |
| God is a tender pervert and the angels are voyeurs | |
| Watching us forever, their vision never blurs | |
| They make us then forget us for a hundred million years | |
| And then by chance they glance at us and something in them stirs | |
| They find us so provocative, so weak, so full of pride | |
| Our cleverness, our nakedness, fills them with delight | |
| The way we hold our coffee cups, the way we pick our words | |
| God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
| His angels are voyeurs | |
| And when the tender pervert is too busy to admire us | |
| He sends his angels down to pass amongst us and desire us | |
| He gives them little notebooks where they note each quirk and boast | |
| Our foolish pride and pompousness turn him on the most | |
| When we' re throwing temper tantrums | |
| When we' re giving up the ghost | |
| The pervert keeps his distance | |
| But his angels, his angels move in close | |
| It intoxicates the Spaceman, watching how we thrill ourselves | |
| Not by sex but by devising new ways to kill ourselves | |
| He sees the way we tamper with the things we most depend on | |
| The danger stands his hair on end and gives him a hardon | |
| He calls his angels down to watch that slut the world get hers | |
| God is a tender pervert and his angels | |
| His angels are voyeurs | |
| The pervert and his angels hide amongst the stars and watch | |
| And as we blow ourselves to bits the angels pump their cocks | |
| Their semen flows across the sky and forms new milky wheys | |
| And somewhere in some galaxy in less than seven days | |
| They make a planet more curvaceous and much sexier than ours | |
| Full of bigger sinners | |
| More worthy of voyeurs |
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