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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 To Fly oh
Angels to fly