Life Of The Party(Shawn Mendes)

•Chapter 4•

Jenna's pov

"So here's the guitar." I hand Shawn the guitar and we sit down in a chair. Awkward silence is among us.

"Soooo you wanna start?" He asked me.

"Sure." I say and he starts playing the guitar.

Jenna:

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

Both:

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 we're just under the upper hand

And go mad for a couple 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

Shawn:

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

Both:

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 we're just under the upper hand

And go mad for a couple grams

Jenna

And she don't want to go outside tonight

And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland

Or sells love to another man

Shawn:

It's too cold outside

For angels to fly

An angel will die

Covered in white

Closed eye

And hoping for a better life