White lips, pale face |
Breathing in snowflakes |
Burnt lungs, sour taste |
Light's gone, day's end |
Struggling to pay rent |
Long nights, strange men |
And they say |
She's in the Class A Team |
Stuck in her daydream |
Been this way since eighteen |
But lately her face seems |
Slowly sinking, wasting |
Crumbling like pastries and they scream |
The worst things in life come free to us |
'Cause we're just under the upper hand |
And go mad for a couple grams |
And she don't want to go outside tonight |
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland |
Or sells love to another man |
It's too cold outside |
For angels to fly |
Angels to fly |
Ripped gloves, raincoat |
Tried to swim and stay afloat |
Dry house, wet clothes |
Loose change, bank notes |
Weary-eyed, dry throat |
Call girl, no phone |
And they say |
She's in the Class A Team |
Stuck in her daydream |
Been this way since eighteen |
But lately her face seems |
Slowly sinking, wasting |
Crumbling like pastries and they scream |
The worst things in life come free to us |
'Cause we're just under the upper hand |
And go mad for a couple grams |
And she don't want to go outside tonight |
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland |
Or sells love to another man |
It's too cold outside |
For angels to fly |
An angel will die covered in white |
Closed eye and hoping for a better life |
This time, we'll fade out tonight |
Straight down the line |
And they say |
She's in the Class A Team |
Stuck in her daydream |
Been this way since eighteen |
But lately her face seems |
Slowly sinking, wasting |
Crumbling like pastries and they scream |
The worst things in life come free to us |
And we're all under the upper hand |
Go mad for a couple grams |
And we don't want to go outside tonight |
And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland |
Or sell love to another man |
It's too cold outside |
For angels to fly |
Angels to fly to fly, fly |
For angels to fly, to fly, to fly |
For angels to die |
Bridge: |
x2 |