This is one of my favorite songs. https://fnfgo.io
Off to the funeral making cola knots
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
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
Second generation blues or points of view not listened to
Different worlds and different rules of allegiance
Clinging to her Bible and her scapular
And the memory of the way things were
I do not 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?
Where is it?
Where is home?
I walk this mountain tired of lunity and belligerence
This told me what a flat wave is getting me down
I want to stamp on the face of every young policeman today
And break the fingers of every old judge to cut off the feet of every ballerina I can
So I decide
I decide
I pretend that there's nothing wrong
The teeth of this world take me home and every day
I must ask myself, where, where, where
Where is it?
Where is home?
Where is it?
Where is home?
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
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
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
Second generation blues or points of view not listened to
Different worlds and different rules of allegiance
Clinging to her Bible and her scapular
And the memory of the way things were
I do not 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?
Where is it?
Where is home?
I walk this mountain tired of lunity and belligerence
This told me what a flat wave is getting me down
I want to stamp on the face of every young policeman today
And break the fingers of every old judge to cut off the feet of every ballerina I can
So I decide
I decide
I pretend that there's nothing wrong
The teeth of this world take me home and every day
I must ask myself, where, where, where
Where is it?
Where is home?
Where is it?
Where is home?
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us
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This song was originally written by a guy called Peter Gutteridge. He was one of the founders of the "Dunedin Sound" a musical scene in the south of New Zealand in the early 80s. From there it was covered by "The Clean" one of the early bands of that scene (he had originally been a member of in it's early days, writing a couple of their best early songs). The Dunedin sound, and the Clean became popular on american college radio in the mid to late 80s. I guess Yo La Tengo heard that version.
Great version of a great song,
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its about kele's cousin who was stabbed to death in london, over a racial argument.:). "what they did to the black boy" and his anger over the situation