Home is where you're brought up
And where it all began
Where you're roots were stretching out
On foreign land
You like it or might leave it
You stay or you may roam
They say it's like the heart
Without a home
The young ones getting out of here
The rest stays where they are
And most of them turn
Petit bourgeois
Cause it's so simple
To feel curled up here
So laid back when you're drunk
While flushing down the shape of things
To come
And so we stumbled down the alleys
While kicking out the lights
And we argued who was wrong
And who was right
Then we hooked up on the good girls
On the hills of broken glass
When they hooked on us we fled
And took the bus
We wrote a hundred lovesongs
And poems all those years
Where we sang about our hopes
And doubts and fears
Someone push the break
Someone push the break
And stop over for a minute
Someone get along
Someone get along
With us
This place is packed with creepers
With hypocrites and fools
As long as the cars stay running
They stay amused
It's the narrow minded attitude
That made us feel inspired
But in trade for any vision
We got tired
When I look into your eyes
I realize they stand and stare
You're a bunch of saveaholics
In despair
Oh I've never seen such a beauty
Showing such an ugly face
I've never been in a richer
Poorer place
It's that love and hate relationship
That keeps us hanging on
But one early winter morning
We'll be gone
Someone push the break
Someone push the break
And stop over for a minute
Someone get along
Someone get along
With us
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