Angel comes home
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His clothes in a cloud
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Of the dust and the dirt and destruction
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She waits inside
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She knows he's arrived
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She feels this with no introduction
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At angel's door,
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You have to leave it on the floor,
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Don't bring it in.
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He can't show
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What she doesn't want to know
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Those things he's seen.
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She knows the smell
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Of that life he can't tell
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Of the fires and the flesh and confusion
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Inside his brain
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It's never the same
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Though he tries to maintain the illusion
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At angel's door,
|
You have to leave it on the floor,
|
Don't bring it in.
|
|
He can't show
|
What she doesn't want to know
|
Those things he's seen.
|
|
Angel comes home
|
His clothes in a cloud
|
Of the dust and the dirt and destruction
|
|
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Angel's Doorway
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Suzanne Vega |