I am nineteen years old
I am a musician
Would you like to hear a song?
Just listen and judge me for what you think I'm worth
And you said, I like the way your fingers play the chords
I like the way you make me feel at home, woah
I just called to say I never left
And good luck, good luck, good luck, good luck, good luck
I heard you needed some
If your father could see the mess you made, he wouldn't like it very much
You're playing a game entitled, "Hey they're going to like me when I'm sick"
Just don't lie in the bed you made yourself and expect me to tuck you in
'Cause I won't
Yeah, I liked the way you make me feel at home, woah
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