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Home is where you lay your head. My head lies between the cracks. Red lights lead to wasted days. Maybe I better [stay] put till' all my days.

Oh, the city's not a home. But it's somewhere to get alone.

Maybe I'm lying to myself. I'm not a graphter, I'm not on that of earth. I have a habit that's a full time occupation. Cause the grass is always greener when you can't see the garden.

Oh, the city's not a home. But it's somewhere to get alone.
Oh, the city's not a home. But it's somewhere to get alone.


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