angels that carry me home.

if heaven should call this world at all,
let them know that it's not always easy.
angels with wings serrated on their shoulders
call to us here and speak so easy.
their words fall like dead leaves on cracked, broken streets.
they lift up their voices so no one will weep.
if heaven should call this world at all,
tell the angels i'm coming home.
i'll criss-cross my heart with these fingers aplenty.
i hope that the angels have enough arms to hold me.
if ever a whisper was held deep inside,
let the angels force it out.
i will sit heavy-hearted under the oaks,
and talk with the angels who fly circles so high.
i will wait on a hillside for a crimson sunset,
and let the angels carry me home.