6.The Angel
Lyrics：Bruce Springsteen
Music：Bruce Springsteen
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.
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