Из альбома: The Answer Machine?
Mother I'm so sorry for this thing I've gone and done,
But surely you'll forgive me - after all I am your son.
Live to race - thrill of the chase to me was all that mattered,
As we crash I hit the dash - my baby face is shattered.
We are Dead Angels - dead angels on ice.
Once upon a time we stood in line -
Minds so numb and bored.
Now we're lying still (always will),
Just chillin' in the morgue.
Kicking cans, little clans, windy streets, grey estates,
We earn our wings and pluck harp sstrings -
Ramraiding through the Pearly Gates.