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The Angel Lyrics

Artist: Bruce Springsteen
Album: Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J.

The angel rides with hunchbacked 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 stroke 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 weatherbeaten 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

Comments/Interpretations
by justin on 10/7/2008 6:07am Classic Springsteen imagery as he dips into and out of a characters life, moulding the english language as only true poets can. With a brilliant economy of words and no bullshit. And was only 23, what a genius!

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