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 In the back seats getting stoned To forget everything at home Mess about with the 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 siren's wail and the car alarms A call to prayer and the 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 of 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 homeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
