Text: Rush. Workin' Them Angels.

Driving away to the east, and into the past
History receeds in my rear-view mirror
Carried on a wave of music down a desert road
Memory drumming at the heart of a factory town

Diving down into the wreck, searching for treasure
Skeletons and ghosts among the scattered diamonds
Buried with the songs and stories of a restless life
Memory drumming at the heart of a moving picture

All my life
I've been workin' them angels overtime
Riding and driving and working
So close to the edge
Workin' them angels
Workin' them angels
Workin' them angels
Overtime

Memory drumming at the heart of an English winter
Memory drumming at the heart of an English winter
Filling my spirit with the wildest wish to fly
Taking the high road, into the Range of Light

Driving down the razor's edge between past and future
I turn up the music and smile, eyes on the road ahead
Carried on the songs and stories of vanished times
Memory drumming at the heart of an African village

All this time
I've been living like there's no tomorrow
Running and jumping and flying
With my imaginary net
Workin' them angels
Workin' them angels
Workin' them angels
Overtime

Riding through the Range of Light to the wounded city
Taking the high road
Into the Range of Light
Taking the high road
Into the Range of Light
[Repeat to fade]