[White
Lips], Pale Face
Breathing in Snowflakes.
Burnt lungs, Sour Taste.
Light scorn, Days End
[Struggling[ to pay rent.
Long nights, //Strange\\ men.
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,
They scream, 'The worst things in life come free to
us.'
Cause we just got under the upperhand,
Goin' mad for a [couple
grams].
And she don't wanna go outside,
tonight.
[In a pipe], she flies to the
Motherland,
Sells love to another man.
It's too cold outside, for angels to
fly.
-Ed Sheeran [The A Team]
♫
