White lips, pale face,
breathing in snowflakes,
burnt lungs, sour taste.
Lights 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 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 grams,