the angels

There are things that only I and the angels know
I trust them to keep their silence
They come around when I close my eyes
And disappear when I get the urge to do some harm

There are angels that live in the bottom
Of almost every glass of beer
Churches are crowded with their statues
But they have no need to go there

I can hear the angels whisper when I am quiet enough
But they never let me hear them cry
I guess they think that it would discourage me
But I would like to hear the angels cry

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