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 different rules A 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?