I was born in America,
I never did believe in the devils’ work,
I never did believe there were demons in the eyes,
Of the empty faces of the passersby.

But now I find myself hard pressed to think,
I find myself positing angels in the sky,
How else explain the light in your eyes,
As we journey through this world of pain.

It must be angels watching over me,
Of my freedom they’re reminding me,
It must be angels watching over me,
Keeping me afloat on this dry black sea.

I woke up and I was someone else,
I was fussing and fighting in the street,
I was cutting with my tongue, I was stamping with my feet,
As sure as any demon I was raising hell.

But then I seemed to feel uplifting hands,
I saw your smile and saw the master’s face,
And I cooled my breath and slackened up my pace
And I was walking with an angel in a golden land.