Trace the cracks out into the concrete
The kids are all screaming
Out in the street
You know this is no hotel room
No clean white sheets
Cool tile beneath bare feet
Give me just a little bit of the familiar
To take me away from this foreign land
I'd trade in every palm tree
For a maple or an elm
A grove of pine on a frozen creek
How did I ever come to call this place home?
So squalid and askew
So far away from you
Give me just a little bit of the familiar
To take me away from this foreign land
James: drums | Jonah: guitar, bass, keys, voices