White lips
pale face breathing in snowflakes
burned lungs
this is our taste
lights gone days end
struggling to pay rent
long night this is a strange man
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 thing in live come free to us and we’re just under the upper hand
I’m going out for a couple grams
and she don’t wanna go outside tonight and in a pipe she flies to the
motherland sells love to another man
its too cold outside
for angels to fly
for angels to fly