Mag ik Engels spreken?nn(Here we go)nnI saw the statue of Herman BroodnIt had a lump way down in its throatnThat's because its heart was broke in twonnHe played piano really fuckin' goodnWest Berlin to West HollywoodnPrettier than Brando, he was punker than punknSlave to rock and roll and a slave to junknnAngels come to comfort younYeah they donAnd here they comenThey'll lead you by the handnThey'll take you down the hallnAnd they will break your fallnnHe was no saint but he was DutchnSo he could paint; yeah, he had the touchnHe felt the angels kiss him on the headnWhispering the name that rhymes with deadnnNow the Hilton Hotel in AmsterdamnGood enough for John and Yoko, mannNow you got the key to 902nnAngels come to comfort younHere they comenHere they comenThey'll take you by the handnThey'll lead you down the hallnAnd they will break your fall