Storytellers

On the corner of st. marks, I saw an angel
Playing a guitar and begging for change
Oooh-i guess I shouldnt have believed my eyes
But when he wiggled his wings, I melted like ice cream
He began to sing (no very well)
He said oooh-sweet girl, the storyteller never lies
That should have been enough
I couldnt make this up
Stranger than fiction is my love, my love

Now theres an angel in my bed, I cant kick him out
And his junkyard head is starting to smell
Oooh-i guess it must have been a hell of a night
cause as he stumbled to the door, he just didnt care
That his wings were on the floor-right where they fell
Oooh-and Im still looking for a heavenly light

He couldnt say goodbye
The angel made me cry
Stranger than fiction like my life
My life

Ooohh-he said, the storyteller never lies
Hey mack, when you fly back to heaven
Can I come for the ride?
He said, no kid, I dont live in heaven
I live here on the lower east side.

So now Im back with my old guy, but I think of the angel
How he blatantly lied, and re-stapled his wings
Ooooh-now I start running when an angel sings
There couldnt be a scarier thing
Stranger than fiction is my life