Tytuł: The Angel

• Wykonawca: Bruce Springsteen
• Wyświetleń: 275

The angel rides with hunch-backed children, poison oozing from his engine
  Wieldin' love as a lethal weapon, on his way to hubcap heaven
  Baseball cards poked in his spokes, his boots in oil he's patiently soaked
  The roadside attendant nervously jokes as the angel's tires strokes his precious pavement
  
  The interstate's choked with nomadic hordes
  in Volkswagen vans with full running boards dragging great anchors
  Followin' dead-end signs into the sores
  The angel rides by humpin' his hunk metal whore
  
  Madison Avenue's claim to fame in a trainer bra with eyes like rain
  She rubs against the weather-beaten frame and asks the angel for his name
  Off in the distance the marble dome
  reflects across the flatlands with a naked feel off into parts unknown
  The woman strokes his polished chrome and lies beside the angel's bones.