Angels

She sang like an angel To the chattering plates But your pimp and your pusher You both thought were great Well, you earned enough money To pay for your stuff It's great having brown skin It doesn't show up You sang like an angel To the chattering cups At the end of the day You weren't tough enough Your pimp and your pusher Well, they beat you up Well, it's great having brown skin It doesn't show up Well, your voice became sand-paper Sand-paper worn As your heart, it was broken Your heart, it was torn And when you died The police all queued up It's great having brown skin It doesn't show up --- Angels - Tiger Lillies