Оригинален текст
Rode in the grip of an angel
Hands tied in cords of gold
We'd made a deal, I went astray
Now I'm falling with hell to pay
Rode in the grip of an angel
Occupied with thoughts of gold
I learned a dance on the head of a pin
It didn't save me from eternal sin
See Now I'm learning to fly by myself
Stealing my grain from the mouths of birds
Touch ground for an occasional birdbath
Crap on the heads of passers-by