White lips, pale face, breathing in 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 18 but lately her face seems slowly sinking, wasting, crumbling like pastries And they scream the worst things in life come free her us 'cause she's just under the upper hand and goes mad for a couple grams And she don't wanna go outside tonight 'Cause in a pipe she'll fly to the Motherland and sell love to another man It's too cold outside for angels to fly Angels to fly