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