Angel comes home
His clothes in a cloud
Of the dust and the dirt and destruction


She waits inside
She knows he's arrived

She feels this with no introduction

At angel's door,

You have to leave it on the floor,
Don't bring it in.


He can't show
What she doesn't want to know
Those things he's seen.


She knows the smell
Of that life he can't tell

Of the fires and the flesh and confusion

Inside his brain

It's never the same
Though he tries to maintain the illusion


At angel's door,
You have to leave it on the floor,
Don't bring it in.


He can't show
What she doesn't want to know

Those things he's seen.

Angel comes home

His clothes in a cloud
Of the dust and the dirt and destruction