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