Bruce Springsteen - The Angel lyrics

The angel rides with hunchbacked children
Poison oozing from his engine
Wieldin' love as a lethal weapon
On his way to hubcap heaven
Baseball cards poked in his spokes
His boots in oil he's patiently soaked
The roadside attendant nervously jokes as the
Angel's tires stroke his precious pavement
The interstate's choked with nomadic hordes
In Volkswagen vans with full running boards
Dragging great anchors
Followin' dead-end signs into the sores
The angel rides by humpin'
His hunk metal whore
Madison Avenue's claim to fame in a
Trainer bra with eyes like rain
She rubs against the weatherbeaten frame and
Asks the angel for his name
Off in the distance the marble
Dome reflects across the
Flatlands with a naked feel
Off into parts unknown
The woman strokes his polished chrome and
Lies beside the angel's bones