Here she comes
|
Like rumbling drums
|
Swinging her skirts
|
And talking in spurts
|
Sailing high
|
In her ship of the sky
|
Being found
|
Broken on the ground
|
|
But when she sings
|
I hear the crash of angel wings
|
When she sings I hear the crash of wings
|
|
On Sundays she walks
|
On cut glass and rocks
|
On Monday she falls
|
From the sheerest of walls
|
On Tuesday she screams
|
Black words in her dreams
|
On Friday she lies
|
And a part of her dies
|
|
But when she sings
|
I hear the crash of angel wings
|
When she sings I hear the crash of wings
|
|
Here she comes
|
Like rumbling drums
|
She's swinging her skirts
|
She's talking in spurts
|
Now she's reading my books
|
Now she's giving me looks
|
As she slips and sways
|
Through murmering days
|
|
And when she sings
|
I hear the crash of angel wings
|
When she sings
|
I hear the crash of angel wings
|
When she sings I hear the crash of wings
|
|
Here she comes
|
Like rumbling drums
|
Here she comes
|
Like rumbling drums
|
Like rumbling drums
|
Like rumbling drums
|
|
-----------------
|
The Crash Of Angel Wings
|
| The Waterboys |
