Well you know I don't like you but you want to be my friend Well there are bodies on the ceiling and they're fluttering their wings It's okay I'm angry but you'll never understand dream of Michelangelo they hang above your hands And I know that she is not my friend 'cause there she goes walking on my skin again And I can't see why you wanna talk to me vision of America is crystalline and clean a white bread life just something ignorant and plain walls of Michelangelo I'm dangling again Saturn on a line A sun afire on strings and wires To spin above my head You can catch a sight of angel eyes All emptiness and infinite. I see god upon the ceiling I see angels overhead And he seems so close as he reaches out his hand But we are never quite as close as we are led to understand. dream of Michelangelo God ceiling angels close