| Some angels will carry you homeward
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| Other angels you don’t wanna meet
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| My guardian angel’s got wings of tinfoil
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| And cigarettes found in the street
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| My angel’s got eyes like a housing project
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| He was born inside a guitar
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| And I can’t forget his red lips and eyelashes
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| And his «How'd we end up where we are?»
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| There’s nothing doing on the main streets
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| Let’s take the alley for the evening
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| And we’re driving in a car that won’t slow down
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| Making ourselves up in the rear view mirror
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| I know God lifts up the lowly
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| I know God lifts up the lowly
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| We’re searching the trunk every morning
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| We tore out a tracking device
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| And I pray for plagues to come down on this Egypt
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| And I dream of blood, fire and lice
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| I wake with my coat for a blanket
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| My angel’s been up for an hour
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| And I’ve looked deep into this frail human body
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| And I know that I carry a power
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| We’ll never make it on the main streets
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| They’ll force us back into the alleyways
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| And we’re re-arranging furniture
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| In a burning house
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| But I know God lifts up the lowly
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| I know God lifts up the lowly
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| Ram v’nisa, gadol v’nora
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| Mashpil ge’im u’magbiha shfalim
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| Motzi asirim u’podeh anavim
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| V’ozer dalim
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| V’oneh l’amo b’et shavam eilav |