Home lyrics

Artist  : Waters Roger 
Song : Home



 Send "Home" Ringtone to your Cell 

 												
														   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

 

 Will you stand, will you stand for it

 Will you hear, ohhhh!  ohhh! 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 a cyclist out looking for work. 
Norman

 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, 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