Angels - Daan

We had no trouble

with the face of any plot

when I’d been out stealing.

In a closet I was caught.

I said never,

but was the first to direct you.

Cause your own suicide

was legal as fractures.

I’m on a train

without a traction.

I’m lost on a road

that owns a fraction.

I’m raising my stake.

While my time,

I’m spending on rubber dolls

and outlaws.

But I tracked you,

to collect you,

protect you

from mercy from morals.

And I never would neglect you

for my angers,

my laughs that ain’t rolling.

But your own genocide

was mentally directed by

forces.

Sweet forces that deranged you,

or be cocked

or outknocked by amazing

stain drops.

But it’s been so wrong,

it’s been so long.

Yes I’ve been a fool

to be tempted to treat you

for beating the record.

The simonized Packard,

the girl on the roam

that ain’t never getting picked up,

smashed up,

stuck inside a resto rumble.

I got a phone,

but I never get a dial tone.

Angels

could have crooked you,

could have booked you,

to go tripping in Timbuktu.

But would you,

would you prefer to

refer to your nephew.

White outlined curfew.

Angels

could have crooked you,

could have booked you,

to go tripping in Timbuktu.

But would you,

would you prefer to

refer to your nephew.

White outlined curfew.

Forces,

no forces could retain you,

or be blocked,

or be knocked in outrageous

pit stops.

But I’ve been so wrong.

Yes I’ve been so long.

Yes I’ve been so wrong

to be there to protect you.

I’m not the wrecker,

the window,

or the mekka.

The man on the roam

that ain’t never getting backed up,

smashed up.

Steering like a renegade rambler.

I got a phone,

but I never get a dial tone.

But instead I’m caling to be wrapped up

and mapped up.

I’m a stone,

a breeze,

a number one.

Yeah I’m a song,

an open door.

While all my patients are rude,

while I’m inspecting the rodeo

and not adore you or bore you.

But I’m about to warn you.

I got a lesson for you,

love is the rapture,

an honesty failure.

Love is a record that I wont play for you.

Angels

could have crooked you,

could have booked you,

to go tripping in Timbuktu.

But would you,

would you prefer to

refer to your nephew.

White outlined curfew.

Angels

could have crooked you,

could have booked you,

to go tripping in Timbuktu.

But would you,

would you prefer to

refer to your nephew.

White outlined curfew.

Angels

could have crooked you,

could have booked you,

to go tripping in Timbuktu.

But would you,

would you prefer to

refer to your nephew.

White outlined curfew.

Angels

could have crooked you,

could have booked you,

to go tripping in Timbuktu.

But would you,

would you prefer to

refer to your nephew.

White outlined curfew.