Angel (St. Louis, November 5, 1979) - Fleetwood Mac

Sometimes

The most beautiful things

The most innocent things

And many of those dreams

Pass us by Keep passing us by You feel good

I said it’s funny that you understood

I knew you would

When you were good

You were very, very good

I still look up When you walk in the room

I’ve the same wide eyes

They tell the story

Try not to reach out

When you turn 'round

And you say hello

And we both pretend

There was an end

But there was no ending

So I close my eyes softly

Til I become that part of the wind

That we all long for sometime

And to those that I love

Like a ghost through a fog

Like a charmed hour

And a haunted song

And the angel of my dreams

I still look up I try hard not to look up That girl was me Track a ghost through the fog

A charmed hour--a haunted song

Track a ghost through the fog, baby

Ooh, you try hard

But you’ll never catch me--yeah