There's a hiding-place where strangers go
They will hide their face because they know
They will be exposed to stranger’s eyes
And so they're keeping their disguise...
You'll see them on the streets of London
And on Paris' avenues
New York's angels cry for mercy
Crying for eternal youth
The ticking of the clock... the race against the time
They're feeding off their fans. They'll do their pantomime
As long as they get paid
They're doing their charade...
They close their eyes as time goes by
They'll fade away, but they will never die
A stranger's voice might sooth their pain
Or a silver spoon on a silver chain...
You'll see them on the streets of Oslo
Partaking of forbidden fruit
Berlin's angels cry for mercy
Crying for eternal youth
There's a hiding-place where strangers go
They will hide their face because they know
They will be exposed to stranger's eyes
And so they're keeping their disguise...
Copyright dp, 1997