Home

[Jim:] "Oh, God!"
 [Californian Weirdo:] "Sole has no eyes."
 Could be Jerusalem
 Or it could be Cairo
 Could be Berlin
 Or it could be Prague
 Could be Moscow
 Could be New York
 Could be Llanelli
 And it could be Warrington
 Could be Warsaw
 And it could be Moose Jaw
 Could be Rome
 Everybody got somewhere they call home
 When they overrun the defences
 A minor invasion put down to expenses
 Will you go down to the airport lounge
 Will you accept your second class status
 A nation of waitresses and waiters
 Will you mix their martinis
 Will you stand still for it
 Or will you take to the hills
 It could be clay and it could be sand
 Could be desert
 Could be a tract of arable land
 Could be a house
 Could be a corner shop
 Could be a cabin by a bend in the river
 Could be something your old man handed down
 Could be something you built on your own
 Everybody got something he calls home
 When the cowboys and Arabs draw down
 On each other at noon
 In the cool dusty air of the city boardroom
 Will you stand by a passive spectator
 Of the market dictators
 Will you discreetly withdraw
 With your ear pressed to the boardroom door
 Will you hear when the lion within you roars
 Will you take to the hills
 (Oh, will you stand
 Will you stand for it
 Oh, will you hear when the lion within you roars)
 Could be your father
 And it could be your mother
 Could be your sister
 Could be your brother
 Could be a foreigner
 Could be a Turk
 Could be someone out looking for work
 Could be a king
 Could be the Aga khan
 Could be a Vietnam vet with no arms and no legs
 Could be a saint
 Could be a sinner
 Could be a loser
 Or it could be a winner
 Could be a banker
 Could be a baker
 Could be a Laker
 Could be Kareem Abdul Jabar
 Could be a male voice choir
 Could be a lover
 Could be a fighter
 Could be a super heavyweight (ooh)
 Or it could be something lighter
 Could be a cripple
 Could be a freak
 Could be a wop, gook, geek
 Could be a cop
 Could be a thief
 Could be a family of ten living in one room on relief
 Could be our leaders in their concrete tombs
 With their tinned food and their silver spoons
 Could be the pilot with God on his side
 Could be the kid in the middle of the bomb sight
 Could be a fanatic
 Could be a terrorist
 Could be a dentist
 Could be a psychiatrist
 Could be humble
 Could be proud
 Could be a face in the crowd
 Could be the soldier in the white cravat
 Who turns the key in spite of the fact
 That this is the end of the cat and mouse
 Who dwelt in the house
 Where the laughter rang and the tears were spilt
 The house that Jack built
 Where the laughter rang and the tears were spilt
 The house that Jack built
 Bang, bang, shoot, shoot
 White gloved thumb
 Lord thy will be done
 He was always a good boy, his mother said
 He'll do his duty when he's grown
 Yeah, everybody's got someone they call home