Mag ik Engels spreken? Here we go! I saw the statue of Herman Brood It had a lump way down in it's throat That's because it's heart was broke in two He played piano really fuckin' good West Berlin to West Hollywood Prettier than Brando, he was punker than punk Slave to rock and roll and a slave to junk Ah, Angels come to comfort you Yeah they do And here they come They'll lead you by the hand They'll take you down the hall And they will break your fall He was no saint but he was Dutch So he could paint, yeah, he had the touch He felt the angels kiss him on the head Whispering the name that rhymes with "dead" Now the Hilton Hotel in Amsterdam Good enough for John and Yoko, man Now you got the key to 902 Angels come to comfort you Here they come Here they come They'll take you by the hand They'll lead you down the hall And they will break your fall