The A Team (Apple Music Live) Lyrics By Ed Sheeran
How are you guys doing?
So, the format of this gig was play some tracks in full
And I was like, by the end of that it's gonna be a bit depressing
And I felt weird being like, "And here's 'Bad Habits'"
So, I'm being my own opening act now
And I'm gonna play the songs that you know
And then I'm gonna go off
And then I'm gonna come back and play the songs that you don't
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
'Cause she's just under the upper hand
And goes mad for a couple grams
She don't wanna go outside tonight
'Cause in the pipe, she'll fly to the Motherland
And sell love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
For angels to fly
Ripped gloves, raincoat
Tried to swim and stay afloat
Dry house, wet clothes
Loose change, bank notes
And weary-eyed, dry throat
Call girl, no phone
And they say
She's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
And 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 she's just under the upper hand
And goes mad for a couple grams
But she don't wanna go outside tonight
'Cause in the pipe, she'll fly to the Motherland
And sell love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Now, an angel will die
Covered in white
With closed eyes
And hoping for a better life
This time now will fade out tonight
Straight down the line
Straight down the line
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
And we're all under the upper hand
Go mad for a couple grams
And we don't wanna go outside tonight
'Cause in the pipe, we'll fly to the Motherland
And sell love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
For angels to fly
And fly, fly
For angels to fly
To fly, to fly
For angels to die
