The A Team
White lips, pale faceBreathing in snowflakesBurned lungs, sour tasteLights’s gone, day’s endStruggling to pay rentLong nights, strange men
[CHORUS]And they sayShe’s in the class A teamStuck in her daydreamBeen this way since 18But lately her face seemsSlowly sinking, wastingCrumbling like pastries
And they screamThe worst things in life come free to usCos we’re just under the upper handAnd go mad for a couple of gramsAnd she don’t wanna go outside tonightAnd in a pipe she flies to the motherlandOr sells love to another manIt’s too cold outsideFor angels to flyFor angels to fly
Ripped gloves, raincoatTried to swim and stay afloatDry house, wet clothesLoose change, bank notesWeary-eyed, dry throatCall girl, no phone
[CHORUS] x2