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Album: Songs For Grownups (1999)
Artists: Dean Friedman

  1. All Grown Now
  2. Ayamba Yayahu (it's Just Another Day)
  3. Dodo
  4. Don't Marry That Boy
  5. Don't Mourn, Don't Cry
  6. God Of Abraham
  7. Hale Bop She Bop
  8. Hey, Hey, Hillary
  9. Hob-nobbin'
  10. How Does This Story End?
  11. It's A Wonderful Life
  12. It's Only Make Believe
  13. Jennifer's Baby
  14. Little Black Cloud
  15. Maybe In A Million Years
  16. Multimedia Man
  17. New Lang Syne
  18. No One Knows
  19. Put You In My Pocket
  20. Sandy
  21. Saturday Fathers
  22. She's A Working Mom
  23. Sometimes I Forget
  24. The Dolphins Were Dancing
  25. Typical Town
  26. Under A Canopy
  27. Where Have All The Angels Flown?
  28. Wishing On A Satellite


Dean Friedman
Songs For Grownups
Where Have All The Angels Flown?
By dean friedman

Sprawling spired skylines, sparkle in the night
Sprinkling angel dust on everything in sight.
In the shadows far below, nestled deep within,
Lies a cardboard shanty town shaking in the wind.
Huddled in the darkness, strays outside the fold
Citizens of nowhere seeking shelter from the cold

Where have all the angels flown?
To their father's golden throne?
Leaving we of merely flesh and blood and bone
Stranded on the surface of this our fragile home.

Kings in crystal castles, feast on fortune's fare
While surly subjects seem to vanish in thin air
Red ripe rivers rise on falsely fertile fields.
While we all watch in wonder at the weapons wisemen wield.
Friends all but forgotten; memories grow dim
Prayers no more than whispers; sing a silent hymm

Where have all the angels flown?
To their father's golden throne?
Leaving we of merely flesh and blood and bone
Stranded on the surface of this our fragile home.

Somewhere in some city sprawled on some factory floor.
Tiny fingers spinning silken patterns for
Princes and princesses, debutantes and heirs
Under some illusion that what they have is theirs
Whiled tethered to their stations lesser souls do yearn
Perchance to buy their freedom with the pennies that they earn.

Where have all the angels flown?
To their father's golden throne?
Leaving we of merely flesh and blood and bone
Stranded on the surface of this our fragile home.
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