After the funeral, breaking kola nuts  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    The second generation blues  Our points of view not listened to  Different worlds and different rules  A question of allegiance    Clinging to her bible and her scapula  And the memory of the way things were  I don't see hope, I cannot smile  I burn with anger all the time    We all read what they did to the black boy    In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us    Where is it?  Where is home?    I'll walk this modern tightrope  Of humility and belligerence  ...  Is getting me down    I want to stamp on the face of every young policeman  To break the fingers of every old judge  To cut off the feet of every ballerina  But I can't    So I just sigh and I just sigh  And I pretend that there's nothing wrong  The teeth of this world tear me in half  And everyday I must ask myself  Where, where, where:    Where is it?  Where is home?    In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us