I'll hold your tears as a ransom
Within the palm of my hand,
And tell you once again,
Don't tell me that you're scared...

Wake, wake, wake her
From this sea of white linens and
Extract the [bad word] from her dreams
And sew her seams with delicateness,
'Cause beneath her chest sits the heart that I live for,
You'd kill for,
The angels would die for.
And with a subtle wink and a flutter of wings,
They whispered,
They whispered...

I'll hold your tears as a ransom
Within the palm of my hand
And tell you once again
Don't tell me that you're scared

Alert the sawbones,
Tell them that she's not scared.
She's got an army of saints armed with her prayers.
Wake the angels
Tell them that she's not scared
She won't be taking the next flight out of here.
This is only a test, she said,
Broadcasting from hospital beds.

With a relic in her right hand, [bad word] to the front line,
Stricken by the wounds across her chest
The angels swear she's blessed with this medical test
That unlocks the gates to the place that we live for
We die for,
I know that she's bound for.
And with a subtle wink and a mother's instinct.
She whispered,
She whispered...

The angels dressed for the wake
But she sent them home.
With a handful of bullet shells.