The A-Team

White lips
Pale face
Breathing in the snowflakes
Burnt lungs
Sour taste

Lights gone
Days 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
Go mad for a couple grams
She don't want to go
Outside
Tonight
And in a pipe
She flies to the motherland
Sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly

Ripped gloves
Rain coat
Try to swim and stay float
Dry house
Wet clothes

Loose change
Bank notes
Dreary eyes and dry throat
Cool 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
Go mad for a couple grams
She don't want to go
Outside
Tonight
And in a pipe
She flies to the motherland
Sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly