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Entrada:
The angel rides with hunch-backed children
Poison oozing from his engine
Wielding 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 strokes his precious pavement
Well the interstate s choked With nomadic hordes
In Volkswagen vans With full running boards dragging great anchors
Followin dead-end signs in..to the sores
The angel rides by humpin his hunk metal
Madison Avenue s claim to fame in a trainer bra with eyes like rain
She rubs against the weather-beaten 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