After the funeral breaking cola nuts
We sit and reminisce about the past
And in her voice only sadness
Her only son taken from her

In every headline we are reminded
That this not home for us

2nd generation blues
Our point of view not listened to
Different worlds and [bad word] question of allegiance
Clinging to her bible and her scapula
And memories of the way things were
I can’t see hope I cannot smile
I just burn with anger all the time

We all read
What they did
To the black
Boy

In every headline we are reminded
That this is not home for us

Where is it?
Where is home?

I walk a modern tight rope
Of humility and belligerence
All this tommy-rot and flag waving

Is just getting me down
I want to stamp on the face of every young policeman
To break the fingers of every old judge
To cut off the feet of every ballerina
But I cannot
So I just sit, and I just sigh
And I pretend
That there's nothing wrong
The teeth of this world
Tear me in half
And everyday I must ask myself
Where is it?
Where is home?