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 18
But lately her face seems slowly sinking
Wasting crumbling like pastries
And they scream: The worst things in life come free to us
Because we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple of 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
For 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 18
But lately her face seems slowly sinking,
Wasting, crumbling lane like pastries
And they scream: The worst things in life come free to us
Because we're just under the upperhand
And go mad for a couple of 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 18
But lately her face seems slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries
They scream: The worst things in life come free to us
And we're all under the upperhand
Go mad for a couple of 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
For angels to fly, to fly, fly
For angels to fly, to fly, to fly
For angels to die