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