Angel

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