The A Team

White lips, pale face breathing in the 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 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