They have tired hands, and tired eyes too,
From watching so many sins through cigarette smoke,
Completely gray are their wings, faces like stone,
The immortal soul will never be clean again.
They will leave us, it is as it appears,
The signs have been read, no matter what they mean.
In the days without laughter,
Between passion and agony,
When we make a thousand mistakes,
This world is a block of stone.
The angels ascend,
They're returning home.
The angels ascend,
They're leaving us alone.
They're returning home.
We have ruined it, we were deaf and blind,
tied down to the stones that are our lives.
We have long been immune to the plagues of doubt,
We have forgotten them, we are lost now.
They will leave us, it is as it appears,
The signs have been read, no matter what they mean.
In the days without laughter,
Between passion and agony,
When we make a thousand mistakes,
This world is a block of stone.
The angels ascend,
They're returning home.
The angels ascend,
They're leaving us alone.
They're returning home.
We can now only complain, because everything is breaking in twain,
We fall to the earth, but they are free again.
They will leave us, it is as it appears,
The signs have been read, no matter what they mean.
In the days without laughter,
Between passion and agony,
When we make a thousand mistakes,
This world is a block of stone.
The angels ascend,
They're returning home.
The angels ascend,
They're leaving us alone.
The angels ascend.
The angels ascend.
The angels ascend.
The angels ascend,
They're returning home.