I'm in the rafters looking down

It's cold up here

Between walls of stone

I made my home

And the air hangs

Heavy with the incense

Feathers fall from pigeons

Cooing in the tower

I rarely go down there, the view's just

So beautiful from here and I can see everybody

At their worst points

At their worst points

I'm not a sadist, I enjoy just being able

To be witness of the loneliness and be a higher power

In case there isn't one

In case there isn't one

I'm not a higher power, I just live in the ceiling 'cause

I'm lonely on the fringes, and it gives my life some meaning

In the exile

In my exile

The grey light filters through roof slabs

And the flagstones glow

Bright from the stained-glass

A hundred feet below

As I tiptoe

Creaking over prayers

Pleading with their maker

Crying with the choir

I'm not immune to the sincerity below me

Makes me feel, it makes me holy, but the tears I understand

That I do not below

No, I do not belong

Watching the figures, all the saints, but mostly sinners

Come and go and some are desperate, but the others have

The sense that they do belong

And I do not belong

Some only turn towards the heavens when the end

Is feeling desperate, have the overwhelming feeling

That there's nobody who's looking down

At least I'm looking down