Angel statues frozen in time,
As you hear a wedding chime,
Hearing the preacher mumble,
Faces of the statue crumble.
Silently out side they lay,
As you bow your head to pray,
Wings of angels cold as stone,
In the garden all alone.
Some say they were once real,
Once they could, touch and feel,
They say that they fell from grace,
And somehow wound up in this place.
They're so confused, cold, and still,
Alone in the garden on the hill.