Where Is Home?-Bloc Party

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 Claiming to the bible and a spatula the memory of the way things were I do not see how I cannot smile I deal with anger all the time You'll win, what they did to the black men 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