I am the messenger I am the Smoky Mountain Angel of Doom Here in the room Put my jacket on You're gonna pay for every day you slammed the back door Would he, the Porch King of San Juan make a steel angel of you? I've seen maybe 14 of his angels Sitting on his green street stoop And with my hands on 10 and 2 Man I got so heavy the sun withdrew But I drove through the night for a word with you How was I to know you would never come home? The refrigerator buzz sounded so alone And the kettle grows quiet Wild winds silent Storm begins to form And the living room lights go out I am your reckoner I am your jury on judgement day You will atone for every phone call claimed to have been out-of-state I got the bills and I did the math And the sum was time that I can't subtract Well I gave you my word and I want the word back How was I to know you would never come home? The refrigerator buzz sounded so alone And the kettle grows quiet Wild winds silent Storm begins to form And the living room lights go out