White lips, pale face. Breathing in the snowflakes. Burnt lungs, sour taste. Light's gone, day's end. Struggeling 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 18 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. Ripped gloves, raincoat.Tried to swim and stay afloat. Dry house, wet clothes. Loose change, bank notes. Weary-eyed, dry throat. Call girl, no phone. An Angel will die. Covered in white. Closed eyes. And hoping for a better life. This time, we'll fade out tonight. Straight down the line.
nein 
