| I shot an angel with my father’s rifle
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| I should have set it free, but I let it bleed
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| Made it into taxidermy, hung it on my wall
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| On my wall
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| I shot an angel, kept it in my backyard
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| Hung it out to dry on the clothing line
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| Pinned above my bed like the cross of Jesus Christ
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| On the wall
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| And I know one day hell will catch up to me
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| And I’m sure that I will burn eternally
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| One day it will come to claim its pound of flesh
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| When it’s done, there won’t be anything left
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| I shot an angel, dragged it to my basement
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| Starved it 'til it died and I did not cry
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| Sickness of poacher’s pride |