Из альбома: A Weekend in the City
After the funeral making cola knots
we sit and reminice about the past
and in her voice only sadness
her only son taken from her
and every headline
we are reminded that this is not home for us
in every headline
we are reminded that this is not home for us
second generation blues
and points of view not listened to
different worlds and diferent rules
a question of allegiance
clinging to her bible and her spatula
and the memory of the way things were
i dont see how i cannot smile
i battle with anger all the time
we remember what they did
to the black boy
in every headline
we are reminded that this not home for us
where is it
where is home
where is it
where is home
i walk this mountain tightrope
of lunity adn belligerance
its tought me what a faltwave is
getting me down
i wanna stamp on the face
of every young police man
to break the fingers
of every old judge
to cut off the feet
of every ballerina
but i cant
so i decide (i decide)
and i pretend (i pretend)
that theres nothing wrong (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
where is it
where is home
in every headline we are reminded
that this not home for us (x2)