Angels.

When will the angels come
In chariots of fire
When will they say
the day has come
That we can go home
How long our suffering,
toil and Blame
And when will the angels do
all the world their grace?

Kidnapped

Livin' in the city it's humid and breezy
Movin' to the country it's rugged and sunny
Talkin' to the negro
Go home and so low
Raisin' your eyebrow
at the bad below.
At One O' Clock
Have lunch
And a smoke
At Two O Clock
Back to work
Until you get on the train
Goin' home again
It's all good in theory
But How do you do?
It's not so much what you say
But how much will you pay
You're lucky to be born
to be alive at all
Not to be kidnapped
And not to be sapped
Look out or the lightning
Could zap you.
Who will rule
And who will work the mule?
But when you're livin' in the city
It's city lights.