| Gazed at the ceiling from below
|
| A splendid Michelangelo
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| Filled my heart with delight
|
| Last Saturday night
|
| Arrived believing from home
|
| Climbed every step inside St. Peter’s Dome
|
| Claustrophobic and ex-Catholic
|
| Last Saturday night
|
| Now how come nobody really noticed
|
| Puff of white smoke knocked me out
|
| The truth is hiding, lurking, banking
|
| Things they do at night
|
| It’s quite suspicious to say the least
|
| Even mentioned it to my local priest
|
| One Our Father, three Hail Marys
|
| Each Saturday night
|
| I wish somebody would tell me
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| That it’s only a show
|
| And I’ll confess, own up, let’s face it
|
| In my concrete tuxedo
|
| It’s quite suspicious to say the least
|
| Even mentioned it to my local priest
|
| One Our Father, three Hail Marys
|
| Each Saturday night
|
| One Our Father, three Hail Marys
|
| Each Saturday night
|
| One Our Father, three Hail Marys
|
| Each Saturday night |