I hear a voice in my ear on odd Sundays,
it tells me to set my temple on fire
and sing to the sky
when nobody else is near

It's my cookbook of old confessions that
makes me want to kick the wall
and throw in the towel on my
biggest ambition

Nobody deserves love, I found,
and I found it on the lips
of a lover

I hear a voice in my head on good Fridays,
it tells me to leave my heart to the wolves
and look at the ground
when people start to leer

Nobody's got a ******* heart,
I realized, 'cept for those who
have everything to lose

Sing me that four five eight
and fold open my book
and read me till I touch the sky
and blame it all on you