Home is Where the Trees Grow EP

by The New Yorker

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released August 21, 2009

All songs and lyrics composed by The New Yorker.



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The New Yorker Northwest, Indiana

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Track Name: Virgin
And 5 years of waiting
and 5 years alone
I'm still a virgin
would you let me go
Took me 5 years to realize
and 5 years to know
that life is too short
just to wait on your own.

But what the fuck it just doesn't make sense
Let's just, let's just be friends.

It's funny when I ask they never tell me something else
"I don't know man it just sort of happens by itself"
While all my friends are fucking eachother on the floor
I'm stuck here telling her she's not a fucking whore
I tell her to move on and walk on out the door
because the love that she had is not there anymore
Boyfriend after boyfriend it's the same old fucking chore
Being this alone is just such a bore..
Such a fucking bore!

The only thing you have to lose is your virginity
Stop listening to limes and just talk to me.
Track Name: Stale
One must be happy with what one gets,
that's how it goes.
Getting what others wish they had,
but wanting so bad to give it up...
All along knowing that giving it up
would break hearts, and friendships..
including my own:
Story of my life.
Track Name: Trees
Home is where the trees grow
(where the trees grow)
Whether if it rains, hails, sleets, or snows

We weren't meant for concrete floors and walls,
made from superficial name brand stores
I forgot what to say, ain't that a shame
I'm so sick of playing all these games.
All they do is lead astray and force us
into the vast cliche.

αγαπη μου

I think we've bit off more than we were able to chew
Don't stop, we have to push through
and find the guts to make do

Close motherfucker close,
close motherfucker close
Before your intentions get thrown out the door

I will find happiness from a girl,
Exposing her emotions bare to the world
A girl that I've never met before
Sometimes I just wanna get home.

Home's where the trees grow.