BD3

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 home