But I don’t fear it, although I should;

Beat on my scalp–to hear the  wood;

Yea though, I covet a sinful bed;

Angelic voices talk to my head.

Be still and the voice inside your heart;

Will tell right from wrong, tab every part,

And please be terrified with fear,

If your angelic voice just disappear.

That little voice you’re counting on;

Should move out and leave you alone,

Because your pitiful soul rejects the sound;

And still, the voices hang around.

But I don’t fear it, although I should;

Beat on my scalp–to hear the wood;

Yea though, I covet a sinful bed;

Angelic voices talk to my head.