Angels Come to Comfort You

I saw the statue of Herman Brood

It had a lump way down in it's throat

That's because it's heart was broke in two

He played piano really fucking good

West Berlin to West Hollywood

Prettier than Brando, he was punker than punk

Slave to rock 'n' roll and a slave to junk

Angels come to comfort you, yeah they do

And here they come

They'll lead you by the hand

They'll take you down the hall

And they will break your fall

He was no saint but he was Dutch

So he could paint, yeah, he had the touch

He felt the angels kiss him on the head

Whispering the name that rhymes with dead

Now the Hilton Hotel in Amsterdam

Good enough for John and Yoko, man

Now you got the key to 902

Hey, angels come to comfort you

Here they come, here they come

They'll lead you by the hand

They'll take you down the hall

And they will break your fall