My angel clipped wings I know
Wonders in darkness on grimey ground
In a forest unclean unsound
Everything everything's gone wild
Make land for the cows to graze
Leaflets scatter around to advertise sell out
swamp in it hands stretched out
To catch a passing dime
Donations to the rich widened
Pavements for the poor
Somewhere else to lie
But my friend the carriage door
Stands slightly ajar
And I know clipped wings make uneasy flight
But we've got to reach [bad word] :
place where the feast never ends
moment when the music celebrates
And a time when darkness belongs
To night skies and nothing else
Nothing else -No-
Tomorrow my spirit seen
Fears today my mind
Soul aches so deep
Always craves my body to reach