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      Sat in the back seats getting stoned   To forget everything at home   Mess about with 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 sirens' wail and the car alarms   A call to prayer and a 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 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