Karma leaves her calling card on a sterling silver tray.
You ignore the warning signs and throw that thing away.
You hold a set of loaded dice, a victim of your own device.
Strong convictions weakening, but for now you’re still the king.

You call yourself a wanderer, the hero of the day
a martyr who can do no wrong and always gets away.
Icy fingers draw you near and change is in the atmosphere,
entangled in a world of lies where no one’s going to sympathize.

So you tread lightly and you say a prayer to the little tin angel in your pocket.
Hold it tightly so you know it’s there, you’ve got a tin angel in your pocket.
Close your eyes and hide away and hope you live another day.

All is well. All is well.

Karma lives a single life and won’t leave you alone.
The guitar plays the same old melody, it just takes a different tone.
You tune the strings and play along, try desperately to change the song.
Sing the words etched on the page in a spotlight on an empty stage.

So you tread lightly and you say a prayer to the little tin angel in your pocket.
Hold it tightly so you know it’s there, you’ve got a tin angel in your pocket.
Close your eyes and hide away and hope you live another day.

All is well. All is well.
So many lonely nights tripping on the threshold, falling to the floor.
You can hear perdition calling, scratching at the window, banging on the door.
Don’t look back. Just keep believing you’re invincible until

Karma catches up with you. You made too many waves.
Kismet is a chaperone when the guilty misbehaves.
Guilt you feel is time you’ve served, it’s nothing more than you deserve.
Subject of a watchful eye and years of past can testify.

So you tread lightly and you say a prayer to the little tin angel in your pocket.
Hold it tightly so you know it’s there, you’ve got a tin angel in your pocket.
Close your eyes and hide away and hope you live another day.

All is well. All is well.