Song parody of
Where Is Home?
by Bloc Party
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Off to the funeral making cola knots
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
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
Second generation blues or points of view not listened to
Different worlds and different rules of allegiance
Clinging to her Bible and her scapular
And the memory of the way things were
I do not 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?
Where is it?
Where is home?
I walk this mountain tired of lunity and belligerence
This told me what a flat wave is getting me down
I want to stamp on the face of every young policeman today
And break the fingers of every old judge to cut off the feet of every ballerina I can
So I decide
I decide
I pretend that there's nothing wrong
The teeth of this world take me home and every day
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 is not home for us
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
Off to the funeral making cola knots
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
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
Second generation blues or points of view not listened to
Different worlds and different rules of allegiance
Clinging to her Bible and her scapular
And the memory of the way things were
I do not 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?
Where is it?
Where is home?
I walk this mountain tired of lunity and belligerence
This told me what a flat wave is getting me down
I want to stamp on the face of every young policeman today
And break the fingers of every old judge to cut off the feet of every ballerina I can
So I decide
I decide
I pretend that there's nothing wrong
The teeth of this world take me home and every day
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 is not home for us
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
