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Jim: Oh, God! Californian Weirdo: Sole has no eyes. Could be Jerusalem, or could be Cairo Could be Berlin, or could be Prague Could be Moscow, could be New York Could be Llanelli, and 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 there martinis Will you stand still for it Or will you take to this 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 bend in the river Could be something you old men handed down Could be something you built in 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 could be your mother Could be your sister, could be your brother Could be a foreigner, could be 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 mail voice choir 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