| There’s an angel on a ribbon
|
| Hanging from the armoire door
|
| There’s a Cupid with his feet crossed
|
| On the bird cage by the door
|
| There’s a baby angel drummer
|
| His eyes are open wide
|
| And two more tiny cherubs
|
| On the mantle side by side
|
| Too many angels
|
| Have seen me crying
|
| Too many angels
|
| Have heard you lying
|
| There are photographs of children
|
| All in their silver frames
|
| On the window sills and tabletops
|
| Lit by candle flames
|
| And upon their angel faces
|
| Life’s expectations climb
|
| Where the moment has preserved them
|
| From the ravages of time
|
| Too many angels
|
| Have seen me crying
|
| Too many angels
|
| Have heard you lying
|
| Bring the morning on Voices sing of day
|
| I want to step out in the morning sun
|
| Through the flood of tears
|
| I want this darkness gone
|
| Your sweet face appears
|
| These apparitions coming one by one
|
| But there’s no end in sight
|
| Only the dead of night
|
| And too many angels
|
| Too many angels
|
| Have seen me crying
|
| Too many angels
|
| Have heard you lying
|
| Too many angels
|
| Bring the morning on Voices sing of day
|
| I want to step out in the morning sun
|
| Through the flood of tears
|
| I want to greet the dawn
|
| Cast away these fears
|
| Forget about the things we could have done
|
| Bring the morning on Voices sing of day
|
| I want to watch the children as they run
|
| Through the broken years
|
| I want this darkness gone
|
| Your sweet face appears
|
| These apparitions coming one by one
|
| But there’s no end in sight
|
| Only the dead of night
|
| And too many angels |