Tired Angels

Put their shoulders to the big wheel

Work their fingers to the bone

Take their pleasures in the future

Put it down and bring it home

Walk around into the sundown

Looking for an honest man

Gentle people seeing too much

Aching to be what they can

Chorus:

Angels, tired angels

Tired down inside their shoes

All wanting grace

They live again, rhythym lines on the king of Gondor's face

Children, gentle children

Gentle leaving to the wars

They found their place

And live again, their rhythym lives on the king of Gondor's face

Sinking down into the lame words

Overflowing with their sorrows

Praying for it all to cease fire

Saturated with desire

Standing up to all the brave men

Laughing hollow at the day's end

Walking back and give a handshake

This is just another bad break