My Lyric Book

The A Team

White lips, pale face

Breathing in snowflakes

Burnt lungs, sour taste

Light'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 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

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, raincoat

Tried to swim and stay afloat

Dry house, wet clothes

Loose change, bank note

Weary-eyed, dry throat

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

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

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

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

They scream

The worst things in life come free to us

'Cause we're all under the upper hand

Go mad for a couple grams

And we don't want to go outside tonight

In a pipe we'll fly to the Motherland

We'll sell love to another man

It's too cold outside

For angels to fly

Angels to fly

To fly, fly

For angels to fly, to fly, to fly

or angels die

~ by Ed Sheeran ~

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Requested by : mazzela