"Planning permission tied to post   We read when we’re waiting for bus   Is always double-checked 'cause we so often suspect   They plan to build something on us   What they'll build, neither here nor there   It’s what they'll bury that counts   And how far down they’ll push us this time   And how far back up we’ll bounce      Angels are born with wings not springs   Devils always born with horns   And beautiful bird only bothers to sing   If beautiful day ever dawns      Angels and devils ain't so easy to spot   As movies like to portray   A devil appears with a cunning veneer    You often only notice too late   If he says he’s got wings keep and eye out for springs   Make sure your angel is real   And of all of these things it’s the song that he sings   And how the song makes you feel      Angels are born with souls not goals   Devils always search for the high   So beautiful birds sing from telegraph poles   And devil’s song fills the whole sky      Yes, birdsong belongs   In the highest of places not where devil performs   Beautiful bird and song   Shouldn’t bother to sing if audience mutters and yawns   Mutters and yawns..."