He hath come to the bosom of his beloved
Smiling on him, she beareth him to highest Heav'n
With yearning heart
On thee we gaze, o' gold wing'd messenger of mighty gods

Gold winged angel
Go home, don't tell
Anyone what you are
You're sacred and they're starved
And their art is gettin' dark
And there you are to tear apart

They're gonna tell you what you wanna hear
Then they're gonna disappear
Gonna claim you like a souvenir
Just to sell you in a year