The Angel
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Lyrics
The angel rides with hunchbacked children
Poison oozing from his engine
Wielding love as a lethal weapon
On his way to have a cap in heaven
Baseball cards clogged in his spokes
His boots and all he's patiently sold
The roadside attendant nervously jokes
As the angel starts to stroke his precious finger
Down an interstate chode with nomadic hordes
In Volkswagen vans with whores
Running boards dragging great anchors
Following dead end signs into the sewers
And the angel rides behind his own metal whore
Madison Avenue's claim to fame
In a train of bright with eyes like rain
She rubs against the weather-beaten frame
And asks the angel for his name
She rubs against the weather-beaten frame
And asks the angel for his name
The angel rides with hunchbacked children
Poison oozing from his engine
Off in the distance the marble domes
Rough flats cross the flatlands
With a need to fill up in the bars unknown
The woman strokes his polished chrome
And lies beside the angel's bones