Texty:
Meg Dia Our Home Is Gone

So I met a guy He's from New Jersey Took me out to get some food What you do I asked I play the guitar Well baby I play the guitar too Do you have

Pray for them I often lose track So I took a drag On my first cigarette And I found my head Roll down the dumps Of 27th Street I drew a sketch With lipstick

of him no more Never, never understand the words I wrote Never mind aheart thats broken right He could never be mine Something that I do is fight, fight

word. When should I crawl. When should I take the final blow. When is it bad enough. To earn the right to show. How bad should I hurt? How much is

You looked so happy When I saw you with her And I'm so glad I knew you before you met her So I know How guys are before they get her. I've got it

So I met a guy He's from New Jersey Took me out to get some food What you do I asked I play the guitar Well baby I play the guitar too Do you have

Disreguard what we know Well your voice is so low Will I stay Will I go this evening See the light on the rail Reflect red off the tail lights In front

wasn't ready. Did I say, "Come and get me?" Too bad I held on. When you tried to tell me. This was wrong. Well, is this wrong? I am no masterpiece where innocence is

damsel, a somber sky. She faints on isles. Mademoiselle, hold tight your tongue. I can do whatever I want like you. Is this where the brave hearts hide? Oh no. Is