There's some kind of angel
Flying over
The mountains of New York
Dragged from the path
Be sure
That he won't talk
Life was so good to him
But we know
That law is not made for good men.
Flying over
The mountains of New York
Dragged from the path
Be sure
That he won't talk
Life was so good to him
But we know
That law is not made for good men.
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