Текст песни Bruce Springsteen - The Angel
Bruce Springsteen - The Angel слова песни
Текст песни Bruce Springsteen - The Angel
The angel rides with hunch-backed children, poison oozing from his engineWieldin' love as a lethal weapon, on his way to hubcap heavenBaseball cards poked in his spokes, his boots in oil he's patiently soakedThe roadside attendant nervously jokes as the angel's tires strokes his preciouspavementThe interstate's choked with nomadic hordes( )in Volkswagen vans with full running boards dragging great anchorsFollowin' dead-end signs into the soresThe angel rides by humpin' his hunk metal whoreMadison Avenue's claim to fame in a trainer bra with eyes like rainShe rubs against the weather-beaten frame and asks the angel for his nameOff in the distance the marble domereflects across the flatlands with a naked feel off into parts unknown