
the angel of 8th ave. Gang of Youths
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[Verse 1]
So we got straight to the heart
And I was a coward and worse to my shame
I fell hard upon the weightless weeks
But wasted every day
‘Til you emerged in the park
Like some patron of Washington Square
For the first time in a long time
Inside everything stood clear
So went out to find me a job
But I didn't think I would hold this one down
It gives the same old sinking feeling
Of fucking hammers in my bowels
But you are good to me still
And when my old man was near to the end
You loved his broken body
In thе same way that I did
[Chorus]
I wanna lay me down
And be lovеr of the year
In this strange new town
This strange hemisphere
[Verse 2]
God, it was state of the art
You called each of my sorrows by name
And a tide of tender mercies
Shook my body from the grave
And in the festival years
Of our makeshift parade
In perpetual fall
And immeasurable rain
I wanna see this one out
And I wanna join the impossible swing
And fall hard beside you
Screaming at the bowels of everything
And in the Islington morn
You're the angel of 8th
And what's more, the goddamn greatest thing
That Laney ever made
So we got straight to the heart
And I was a coward and worse to my shame
I fell hard upon the weightless weeks
But wasted every day
‘Til you emerged in the park
Like some patron of Washington Square
For the first time in a long time
Inside everything stood clear
So went out to find me a job
But I didn't think I would hold this one down
It gives the same old sinking feeling
Of fucking hammers in my bowels
But you are good to me still
And when my old man was near to the end
You loved his broken body
In thе same way that I did
[Chorus]
I wanna lay me down
And be lovеr of the year
In this strange new town
This strange hemisphere
[Verse 2]
God, it was state of the art
You called each of my sorrows by name
And a tide of tender mercies
Shook my body from the grave
And in the festival years
Of our makeshift parade
In perpetual fall
And immeasurable rain
I wanna see this one out
And I wanna join the impossible swing
And fall hard beside you
Screaming at the bowels of everything
And in the Islington morn
You're the angel of 8th
And what's more, the goddamn greatest thing
That Laney ever made
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