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Bruce Springsteen - The Angel Lyrics

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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 hes patiently soaked

The roadside attendant nervously jokes as the angels tires strokes his precious pavement

The interstates 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 avenues 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 ***** feel off into parts unknown

The woman strokes his polished chrome and lies beside the angels bones

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