I lose some sales, and my boss won't be happy. But i can't stop listening to the sound of two soft voices blended in perfection, from the reels of this record that i found.
Every day there's a boy in the mirror asking me: what are you doing here? Finding more that previous motifs growing increasingly unclear.
I travelled far and i burned all the bridges. I belived as sooned as i hit land all the other options held before me wither in the light of my plan.
So i lose some sales, and my boss won't be happy. But there's only one thing on my mind, searching boxes underneath the counter, on a chance that on a tape i'd find.
A song for someone who needs somewhere to long for.
Homesick
Cause i no longer know
Where home is
Where home is
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