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Alex Goot
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The A Team - Acoustic
White lips, pale face
Breathing in snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste
Light's gone, days 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 eighteen 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,
And sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly
Ripped gloves, rain coat
Tried to swim and stay aflot
Dry house, wet clothes
Loose change, bank notes
Weary-eyed, dry throat
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Call girl, no phone
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 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
And sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
For angels to fly
To fly
Fly
For angels to fly
To fly, to fly
An angel will die
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