| Lyrics: | by Bob Dylan
Three angels up above the street,
Each one playing a horn,
Dressed
in green robes with wings that stick out,
They've been there since Christmas morn.
The
wildest cat from Montana passes by in a flash,
Then a lady in a bright orange dress,
One
U-Haul trailer, a truck with no wheels,
The Tenth Avenue bus going west.
The dogs and
pigeons fly up and they flutter around,
A man with a badge skips by,
Three fellas crawlin'
on their way back to work,
Nobody stops to ask why.
The bakery truck stops outside of that
fence
Where the angels stand high on their poles,
The driver peeks out, trying to find one
face
In this concrete world full of souls.
The angels play on their horns all
day,
The whole earth in progression seems to pass by.
But does anyone hear the music they
play,
Does anyone even try |
