Work of Saws
losing vertical hold
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Black
everyone needs a new friend
make me a home out of ten
oh, it should've been me
everyone needs a new way
she never wanted to stay
oh, it should've been me
Never was I one to sit here alone
the rain will rust my ear to the phone
I think, I think you're making a home out of me
I'm sure I'm losing vertical hold
a sharpened smile will never grow old
I think, I think you're making a home out of me