Well I never had a place that I could call my very own/That's all right, my love, 'cause you're my home.
In hell there's a big hotel where the bar just closed and the windows never opened. No phone so you can't call home, and the TV works, but the clicker is broken.
You just sit home and masturbate. The phone is going to ring soon, but you just can't wait.
Drank a lot of take home pay.
Hey Lord, would ya look out for her tonight, and make sure that all her dreams are sweet? Said now, would ya guide her on the roads, and make them softer for her feet? Hey Lord, would ya look out for her tonight, and make sure that she's gonna be alright, until she's home and here with me.
There's a place in the world for the angry young man With his working class ties and his radical plans He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl He's always at home with his back to the wall And he's proud of his scars and the battles he's lost And he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross And he likes to be known as the angry young man.
If I traveled all my life And I never get to stop and settle down Long as I have you by my side There's a roof above and good walls all around You're my castle, you're my cabin and my instant pleasure dome I need you in my house 'cause you're my home.
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