Текст: Angels. I Ain't The One.

(Brewster-Neeson-Brewster)
Smokers smoking in the smoking room, fishes in the fish tank
sailors waiting for the tide to turn, too bad the ship sank
well dressed wax-work wound up to walk
stares through the window
clown in the alley-way looking for an exit, facing the shadows
I don't patronise you
I dont' try to put you down
I don't criticise you
I ain't the one , I ain't the one to judge
Hard hitting journalist, says he's a communist
says he believes in world war III

lives in a high-rent luxury apartment, he ain't fooling me
I don't patronise you
I dont' try to put you down
I don't criticise you
I ain't the one , I ain't the one to judge
Reading the newspaers, keeping in touch
they steal your secrets, but i ain't the one to judge
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