Somewhere in that
Angel's lair is my true
love, sleeping, waking,
Or maybe on his knees again,
Rosary-wrapped fist, his icy
Eyes staring straight ahead at Him hanging there,
The only man he truly adores,
The only one he'd give up
Love for, the only one
He allowed to brand his soul
With the image of
A sacred heart.

Yes, my true love is talking to the angels,
And letting them set the date.