The Rolling Stones - Angie

Angie, Angie!

When will those dark clouds all disappear?

Angie, Angie

Where will it lead us from here?

With no lovin' in our souls

And no money in our coats

You can't say we're satisfied.

Angie, Angie!

You can't say we never tried.

Angie, you're beautiful

But ain't it time we say goodbye.

Angie, I still love you

Remember all those nights we cried.

All the dreams were held so close

Seemed to all go up in smoke

Let me whisper in your ear

Angie, Angie!

Where will it lead us from here.

Oh, Angie, don't you wish

Oh your kisses still taste sweet

I hate that sadness in your eyes

But Angie, Angie!

Ain't it time we said goodbye

With no lovin' in our souls

And no money in our coats

You can't say we're satisfied.

Angie, I still love you baby

Everywhere I look I see your eyes

There ain't a woman that comes close to you

Come on baby dry your eyes

Angie, Angie, ain't good to be alive?

Angie, Angie, we can't say we never tried.

      Certa vez, li num jornal já antigo de nome Sete, uma interpretação marxista desta canção que não esqueci. Nela, um homem e uma mulher amam-se e para lá desse sentimento tão intenso têm muitos sonhos em comum, sobretudo viver uma vida plena e não sobreviver na vida. Porém, o salário não chega, o dia a dia é sempre a correr, há muito mais deveres do que direitos e os dois chegam à conclusão que o melhor é separarem-se porque tão importante como o amor são os sonhos e nunca os conseguirão alcançar. Por fim desresponsabilizam-se dizendo "we can't say we never tried".

      Keith Richards escreveu a canção na Suiça e segundo algumas vozes, a semente da canção foi Anita Pallenberg, outras a mulher de David Bowie, também a filha recém-nascida Angela. Keith, em 2010, na sua autobiografia Life, clarificou: "While I was in the [Vevey drug] clinic (in March-April 1972), Anita was down the road having our daughter, Angela. Once I came out of the usual trauma, I had a guitar with me and I wrote 'Angie' in an afternoon, sitting in bed, because I could finally move my fingers and put them in the right place again, and I didn't feel like I had to s--t the bed or climb the walls or feel manic anymore. I just went, 'Angie, Angie.' It was not about any particular person; it was a name, like ohhh, Diana. I didn't know Angela was going to be called Angela when I wrote 'Angie.' In those days you didn't know what sex the thing was going to be until it popped out."