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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're 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 fellows crawling 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 progressions seems to pass by |
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But does anyone hear the music they play ? |
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Does anyone even try ? |