Adolescent dreams and the ghost of Tupac

Still the devil has all the best beats

Hip hop and an image to keep

Brother hardware under the seat

On the wall "Bin Laden was here"

Turn around and it disappears

Soft spring rain and wild skies

Wild hope in all the kids' eyes

And no one's really sure if this is home



We close early when the nights are slow

Hit the shell garage, Thornton road

Take a long drive up on the moors

Park up in a place we know



Sat in the back seats getting stoned

To forget everything at home

Mess about with bleeping phone

Gazing down on the city below

Where no one's really sure if this is home



Check the rear view mirror at the lights

To see who else is about tonight

The mongrel dogs that run the streets

And the families all with secrets to keep



I lie awake and I hear the sounds

The sirens' wail and the car alarms

A call to prayer and a call to arms

The bass subs of the boom-box cars

The first riffs on the cheap guitars

Tinker ponies on the edge of the park

Drunks roll home and the dogs they bark

I know the sounds like the beat of my heart



And it's not where you're from or where you've been

It's not a matter of blood or family tree

Everybody believes what they want to believe

But they come from some kind of refugee

Running from something, turned out of somewhere

All looking for somewhere, exiled from something

And no one's really sure if this is home