God drives a '69 Chevy Impala
With stained-gla** windows and hyper-strobe headlights
You can hear his engine whine on the edge of the radio dial
It's Saturday night in Piedras Negras
Nothing to do here but drink cheap tequila
And wonder whether life is a treasure or a trial
Someday we'll meet on the edge of that river
And we'll fly away to some far, distant land
Where angels and outlaws can walk
Hand in hand
I think of her as an angel above me
I count the times she has told me she loves me
But now I am bound to live out my days on the run
Sometimes salvation is lost to survival
I live by the pistol, she lives by the Bible
But we'll meet again over there when our work here is done
Someday we'll meet on the edge of that river
And we'll fly away to some far, distant land
Where angels and outlaws can walk
Hand in hand
Now, some of my friends, they have taken the high road
But I had to see the third-world, first-hand
Life is a mixture of shuffles and tangos
And rhythms and reasons I don't understand
I'm a stranger in a strange light
God, how I miss her tonight
God plays a '59 black Stratocaster
With Vibrolux Reverb and big-bang precision
You can hear his Holy Music tonight on the back streets of man
Someday we'll meet on the edge of that river
And we'll fly away to some far, distant land
Where angels and outlaws can walk
Hand in hand
(Angels and outlaws can walk, hand in hand.)
Hand in hand
(Angels and outlaws can walk, hand in hand.)
Hand in hand
(Angels and outlaws can walk, hand in hand.)
Hand in hand
[To fade]