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After the funeral, breaking kola 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
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'll walk this modern tightrope Of humility and belligerence ... 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
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