And when the tender pervert is too busy to admire us
He sends his angels down to pass amongst us and desire us
He gives them little notebooks where they note each quirk and boast
Our foolish pride and pompousness turn him on the most
When we're throwing temper tantrums
When we're giving up the ghost
The pervert keeps his distance
But the angels, but the angels move in close
(Momus, 1988)