I'm out of this townnIt treats me like stranger nAwaiting a midnight train at the station nTo take me away nnThere is no turning back nLike a pile of clay I melt away nCall me an angel for these paper wings they can fly nnPerhaps it could wait at least till November nThe sky will turn gray and make me remember nThe gray in your eyes, nAnd pain will start over and over again nAnd again and again and again and again nn'Cause there is no turning back nLike a pile of clay you melt away nI call you an angel, don't you know that your wings they can fly? nnNow there's no turning back nLike a pile of clay we melt away nWe are no angels, on these paper wings we can’tnWe are no angels, no wonder that we couldn't fly...