“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 wingedAngelGo homeDon’t tellAnyoneWhat you are, you’re sacredAnd they’re starved, and their artIs getting dark, and there you are to tear apartTear apart, tear apart,