--- instrumental ---

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children any way they could
By pouring their derision
Upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psycopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives

Hey you !  out there in the cold
Getting lonely, getting old, can you feel me
Hey you !  Standing in the aisles
With itchy feet and fading smiles, can you feel me
Hey you !  don't help them to bury the light
Don't give in without a fight.
Hey you !  out there on your own
sitting naked by the phone would you touch me
Hey you !  with your ear against the wall
Waiting for someone to call out would you touch me
Hey you !  would you help me to carry the stone
Open your heart, I'm coming home
But it was only a fantasy
The wall was too high as you can see
No matter how he tried he could not break free
And the worms ate into his brain.
Hey you !  out there on the road
Doing what you're told, can you help me
Hey you !  out there beyond the wall
Breaking bottles in the hall, can you help me
Hey you !  don't tell me there's no hope at all
Together we stand, divided we fall.

[Radio:] "Radio Four, with the news at 1 o'clock this Thursday lunchtime. The Prime Minister, speaking a few minutes ago in the House of Commons, has warned that the international situation is deteriorating rapidly and that war could break out at any time in the next two or three days."
[Man:] "Cripes! This is it! This is really it!"
[Woman:] "I shouldn't worry too much, it'll probably all blow over."

   --- instrumental ---

[Man:] "I shall fear no evil...and thou shalt accompany me all the days--all the days of my life...uh...lay me down in--in--in green pastures..I...I don't know anymore..."
[Woman:] "That was nice, really. Lay me down in green pastures--"
[Man:] "Oooh yes, yes...enter the valley of the shadow of death."
[Woman:] "no more, now...there, no more..."
[Man:] "??Road?? the six hundred"

   --- instrumental ---

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