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