Home - Kill It Kid

I remember the clashing of tongues

Second-hand smoke like rust in my lungs

But when the darkness preys at your door

Your home can be a home no more

I’ve pleaded for sick men and liars

Treat them like sweethearts, my hands in the fire

But when her clothes were cast to our floor

My home could be a home no more

Lord what’s to be given

Make damn sure it’s given to me

Lord what’s to be given

Make damn sure it’s given to me

Lord what’s to be given

Make damn sure it’s given

Damn sure it’s given to me

Damn sure it’s given to me

Don’t you take him away from me

I still hear the birds through the back door

Still see the rain wet toys on the lawn

As the darkness preys at your door

Your home can be a home no more

Your home can be a home no more