Back-Door Angels

(альбом: Warchild - 1974)

In and out of the front door, ran twelve back-door angels.
Their hair was a golden-brown
they didn't see me wink my eye.
`Tis said they put we men to sleep with just a whisper,
And touch the heads of dying dogs and make them linger.
They carry their candles high and they light the dark hours.
And sweep all the country clean with pressed and scented wild-flowers.
They grow all their roses red, and paint our skies blue
drop one penny in every second bowl
make half the beggars lose,
why do the faithful have such a will to believe in something?
And call it the name they choose,
having chosen nothing.
Think I'll sit down and invent some fool
some Grand Court Jester.
And next time the die is cast, he'll throw a six or two.
In and out of the back-door, ran one front-door angel,
Her hair was a golden-brown
she smiled and I think she winked her eye.