Put their shoulders to the big wheel. work their fingers
To the bone
Take their pleasures in the future, put it down and bring
It home
Walk around into the sundown, looking for an honest man
Gentle people seeing too much, aching to be wat they can
Chorus
Angels, tired angels
Tired down inside their shoes
All wanting grace
They live again rhythym lines on the king of Gondor's
Face
Children, gentle children
Gentle leaving to the wars
They found their place
And live again their rhythym lives on the king of
Gondor's face
Sinking down into the lame words, overflowing with their
Sorrows
Praying for it all to cease fire, saturated with desire
Standing up to all the brave men, laughing hollow at the
Day's end
Walking back and give a handshake, this is just another
Bad break
