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

Been this way since eighteen but lately her face seems

And in a pipe, she flies to the Motherland

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 in a pipe she flies to the Motherland

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 (oh)

Crumbling like pastries, they scream

And we're (oh) all under the upper hand

(Oh) go mad for a couple grams

(Oh) and we don't want to go outside (oh) tonight

And in a (oh) pipe we fly to the Motherland

(Oh) or sell love to another man

(Oh) it's too cold outside (oh) for angels to fly (oh, oh), angels to fly (oh)

To fly (oh), fly

For angels to fly (oh), to fly, to fly (oh)

For angels to die