Angel's Delight Lyrics - Fatima Mansions

A necklace of rubber, burning bright 

A burning rubber necklace for my angel's delight 

A holiday in a box, opportunity knocks 

for the rich man's militia photographing my block 

Kill a cop. Why the hell not? 

YEAH!! Burn, motherfucker, burn! 

I got a word for you: dead 

Got a trampoline--your fuckin' head 

You roll down my street in your gleaming new car 

I've got no secrets, cash or time left to give you 

but I've got something else for you, my friend 

A crack in the restless night, a broken bone on the pavement 

Angel's delight was a recurring statement 

Burn a bailiff--spill, don't save it 

YEAH!! Burn, motherfucker, burn! 

Run, run, run, run! 

You can have what you ask, but not in cash 

[with a?] credit card, a payment slashed 

You can put it where your mouth used to be 

You can put it where your dick used to be 

You can [...?] looking at me, looking at you 

[...?] blacklist, [...?] blacklist 

What do you do when words collapse 

and all that's left is broken glass? 

I know, I know I'm trapped 

I've got a holiday in a big oak box 

with my friend, the famous PC Plod, Plod, Plod* 

Kill a cop, kill a cop, 

you lay a hand on me, I'm gonna kill you, cop. 

Hey! Let's all kill some cops. 

Some bailiffs. 

Assholes. 

* "PC Plod" is a well known and derogatory name for a British beat cop. It's capitalized, like "John Q. Public."