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.
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