Where it isn’t

Where it’s at, where it isn’t
Like my old man, bowling-ball clean shaven greying yet wizened

You don’t need to gerrymander polls if yer populist
So many people will say you are opulent
Spit in yer hand? This isn’t a porn movie
Shoop ba da doobie, baby spare me a doobie

Cos I’s black, you know you wanna be too
You gotta do what you wanna do
I never asked to be a slave, no-one does
That’s not a reason for staying silent

You know who you are, a coherent human being.
Same as it ever was back to the Monkees
Tiny fragment of some mistake generic mistake
Baby made it sure that we were born this way

Let the sun beat down upon my face
Until the highways poison me with lead
Where it isn’t is where I’m heading
I just feel sorry for the kid