Paroles de 'Angels Singing' par Orlando Weeks

Gritting's a dying profession, they tell me
The planet's heating up, they say
I mean, I've read somewhere that there's a tarmac that can de-ice itself
I'm not sure I wanna live in a world
Were the B2116 doesn't need gritting as a rule

I do the local pavements and footpaths before it gets dark
Can't start on the roads too early
Too much traffic about
But sometimes, needs must

When I have been out during the day
I feel like some kind of seasonal hero
On the narrower roads, the car's will queue for hours behind me
And then one by one, they drive past

Cheering from their window, beeping their horn
Flashing their light, keeps me going it does

It's always the trouble
With loose links and chains
You pick out the corners
And scratch out the names
And the truth of the matter

It's always the same
You dress for the Sun
And down comes the rain
So you dress for the rain
And the Sun's out again

And the angels are singing
They're blowing the cobwebs away
It's an old chain of familiar chores
And their hearts are really in it today

We ought to know better
We all come unstuck
And the best of us all
Are still riding on luck
It's as old as the weather

The one thing you know
You dress for the rain
And the wind starts to blow
So you brace for the wind
And down comes the snow

And the angels are singing
They're blowing the cobwebs away
It's an old chain of familiar chores
And their hearts are really in it today

Dress for the Sun
Down comes the rain
So you dress for the rain
And
And the Sun shines again
And the Sun shines again
And the Sun shines again

As old as the weather
It's always the same
You dress for the Sun
And down comes the rain