Adolescent dreams and the ghost of Tupac
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Still the devil has all the best beats
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Hip hop and an image to keep
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Brother hardware under the seat
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On the wall "Bin Laden was here"
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Turn around and it disappears
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Soft spring rain and wild skies
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Wild hope in all the kids' eyes
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And no one's really sure if this is home
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We close early when the nights are slow
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Hit the shell garage, Thornton road
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Take a long drive up on the moors
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Park up in a place we know
|
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Sat in the back seats getting stoned
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To forget everything at home
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Mess about with bleeping phone
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Gazing down on the city below
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Where no one's really sure if this is home
|
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Check the rear view mirror at the lights
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To see who else is about tonight
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The mongrel dogs that run the streets
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And the families all with secrets to keep
|
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I lie awake and I hear the sounds
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The sirens' wail and the car alarms
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A call to prayer and a call to arms
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The bass subs of the boom-box cars
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The first riffs on the cheap guitars
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Tinker ponies on the edge of the park
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Drunks roll home and the dogs they bark
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I know the sounds like the beat of my heart
|
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And it's not where you're from or where you've been
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It's not a matter of blood or family tree
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Everybody believes what they want to believe
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But they come from some kind of refugee
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Running from something, turned out of somewhere
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All looking for somewhere, exiled from something
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And no one's really sure if this is home
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Bd 3
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| New Model Army |
