On my mind

White lips, pale face

Breathing in snowflakes

Burnt lungs, sour tasteLight'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 day dream

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

Cos we're just under the upperhand

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 manIt's too cold outside

For angels to flyAngels to fly
Ripped gloves, raincoat

Tried to swim, stay afloat

Dry house, wet clothes

Loose change, bank notes 

Weary-eyed, dry throat

Call girl, no phone....