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 is not home for us
The second generation blues
Our points of view not listened to
Different worlds and different rules
A question of allegiance
The clinging to her bible and her scapula
And the memory of the way things were
I don't see hope, I cannot smile
I 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 this modern tightrope
Of humility and belligerence
This tommy-rot and flag waving
Is 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 can't
So I just sigh
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, where, where?
Where is it?
Where is home?
In every headline we are reminded
That this is not home for us
