Scratch cards and dreaming of houses in the sun The reality of Monday isn't so much fun Kids think they're adults and the adults think they're young From a whisper to a beat on the jungle drums By the river bend in the city That's where I call home Where every story has a twist Every one from top dogs to the street A chapter where we live each day Where walls have ears and gossip has feet Where relatives and friends are near You could do much worse than being here Around the corner are the houses on the hill And in every kitchen cupboard there are beans to spill It's like reading runes knowing how the stories faked And some theories are half baked But I'll stay here still