Angel

She sang like an angel

To the chattering plates

But your pimp and your pusher

You both thought were great

Well, you earned enough money

To pay for your stuff

It's great having brown skin

It doesn't show up

You sang like an angel

To the chattering cups

At the end of the day

You weren't tough enough

Your pimp and your pusher

Well, they beat you up

Well, It's great having brown skin

It doesn't show up

Well, your voice became sand-paper

Sand-paper worn

As your heart it was broken

Your heart it was torn

And when you died

The police all queued up

It's great having brown skin

It doesn't show up