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.
Cos we're just under the upperhand
And go mad for a couple of 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;
Angels to fly.