Angel's Doorway — Suzanne Vega

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