| Crawl across the crippled caphead
|
| Watching Monday morning on the way to kill a friend
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| A broken matress, mud n puddles by a rotting carcass
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| I wish I wasn’t living here again
|
| Dull and dampen concrete stairwell
|
| Looks at Page 3 photo of the sun
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| Lookin' out the cracked and dirty windows
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| Waiting for anyone
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| (Home) Home
|
| Home is where the heart is
|
| (Home)
|
| But my heart is on a limb
|
| (Home)
|
| When I’m home, it never visits
|
| (Home)
|
| When my heart calls, I’m never in
|
| (Home) Home
|
| Home is where my heart is
|
| (Home)
|
| But my heart is on a limb
|
| (Home)
|
| When I’m home it never visits
|
| (Home)
|
| When my heart calls, I’m never in
|
| Spend the weekend waving flies off rancid butter
|
| Scrape the dishes as I listen to the neighbours scream
|
| Secrets of those drawn-in faces on the lino
|
| I wish I wasn’t living here again
|
| A bloodshot view of sickened treetops
|
| Casting shadows in a bad direction
|
| Sitting mold inside the water closet
|
| Talking to the skeletons
|
| (Home) Home
|
| Home is where the heart is
|
| (Home)
|
| But my heart is on a limb
|
| (Home)
|
| When I’m home, it never visits
|
| (Home)
|
| When my heart calls, I’m never in |