Cry out all you want,
"O God, O God, O God."
What's lost in transubstantiation
Is more than wine and bread.
Angels used to come
In so many shapes
One never knew they'd seen one
Or simply were in love.
When you're quiet enough
Alone enough to listen
All things may sing to you
Days of angels, days of love.
The eyes of your angel
Will break the silence,
"Eros, Eros, Eros."
Perfect understanding will come.