Angela: an unfinished symphony.
Angela: she is mobile poetry
And she's nearly 23, making 4,50 an hour.
Complementary shower.
They call her Angela.
Angela.
Angela - Boom! You blew my mind.
Angela, I feel the sap rising tonight.
A dry stick at the end of a branch
And an over-zealous hand.
You can't glue it back.
Snapped of by Angela.
Writer(s): Stephen Patrick Mackey, Jarvis Branson Cocker, Simon Edward Stafford, Martin James F. Craft, Timothy Mccall, Ross Orton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com