The A-Team ft.Jon lyrics - Jess Moskaluke

See the full The A-Team ft.Jon lyrics from Jess Moskaluke. The A-Team ft.Jon lyrics belongs on the album Singles. Learn every word of your favourite song and get the meaning or start your own concert tonight :-). Rate this song's lyrics. Uploaded by Williemae Knebel. Use it for personal and educational purposes only. Listen to these sick beats by Jess Moskaluke.

Song The A-Team ft.Jon video
Jess Moskaluke - The A-Team ft.Jon video

The A-Team ft.Jon lyrics

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 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

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

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
But 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
An angel will die
Covered in white
Closed eye
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 18
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries

They scream
The worst things in life come free to us
And we're all under the upperhand
Go mad for a couple of grams
And we don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland
Or sell love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly
To fly, fly
Angels to fly, to fly, to fly
Angels to die

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