mysongbook.de

Henry's Songbook

All original copyrights respected / For private use only



go to  de   Susannes Folksong-Notizen   English Notes  uk

Who Reaps The Profit, Who Pays The Price

  • (Leon Rosselson)

    You sit there handing down orders - you examine the terms of the deal
    A car is always waiting - other hands turn the wheel
    The doors slide open before you - the doors slide shut behind
    Other hands carry your luggage - weightier matters engage your mind
    You take the gold out of the earth, you throw the corpses in
    One crop is as good as another as long as the cash keeps pouring in
    The wheels must never stop turning, the machine must be obeyed
    The future has got to be fuelled, and there's a price to be paid

    Black like the dust, brown like the earth
    This is our land, the land of our birth

    Silently digging, digging our graves
    Choking our bodies, choking our lives
    Living on scraps, dying in debt
    Digging in darkness so our children can eat

    Once we were free, greeting the sun
    Sharing the earth, giving thanks to the corn
    Sang with the waters, sang with the wind
    Danced with the drum, circle without end

    Now we are silent, they have taken our tongues
    They have taken our pride, they have taken our songs
    Only our bodies, only our eyes
    Burn with the memory of the old ways

    Brown like the earth, black like the dust
    Who can we turn to, who can we trust

    You've got no patience with failure - you've got no time for delay
    Certainty points to the future - straight lines carve out the way
    You never make moral judgements - only one truth you defend
    Money must be free to make money - that's all there is in the end
    You take the diamonds out of the earth, you throw the corpses in
    One crop is as good as another as long as the cash keeps pouring in
    The wheels must never stop turning, the machine must be obeyed
    The future has got to be fuelled, and there's a price to be paid

    Brown like the earth, black like the dust,
    Who can we turn to, who can we trust

    The gun is their God, they have taken our land
    They take what we dig, they take without end
    We drown in the dust, we choke in the heat
    Our skin grows sores, our lungs rot

    Still we remember the cold clear air
    Waking at dawn with the morning star
    Still we remember the sound of the flute
    The feel of the grass under our feet

    Death may come quickly if the mine floods
    If the rock talks, if the gas explodes
    Mostly we linger on death's cold bed
    Clutching for air, coughing up blood

    Nobody cares, nobody sees
    We make no headlines, dying by degrees

    A thousand shapes wait to attend you - the ones who drive your cars
    Who reserve your place at the table - who order your daily cigars
    Who silently guard your privacy - who make sure your ties are new
    Who remind you of your appointments - you know that they all depend on you
    You take the uranium out of the earth, you throw the corpses in
    One crop is as good as another as long as the cash keeps pouring in
    The wheels must never stop turning, the machine must be obeyed
    The future has got to be fuelled, and there's a price to be paid

    Nobody cares, nobody sees
    We make no headline, dying by degrees

    What choice do we have - they've taken our homes
    We wait in silence, our time will come
    They tear from the earth, they leave nothing behind
    Only raw scars on a waste land

    Some day and soon the mountains will shake
    The drum will sound, the sun will turn black
    And from out of the dust and from under the earth
    We will arise, proclaiming this truth

    All life is sacred, all life is one
    From the rocks on the mountain to the children to come

    And the walls will topple, and the fences will fall
    And the scars will be healed and the earth will be whole

    This is our land, the land of our birth
    Black like the dust, brown like the earth

    You never carry money - you like your life ordered and clean
    You make out cheques to charity - no one can call you mean
    Through your double-locked gateways - only the privileged pass
    Admire your taste and elegance - marvels of marble and silver and glass
    You take the earth out of the earth, you throw the corpses in
    One crop is as good as another as long as the cash keeps pouring in
    The wheels must never stop turning, the machine must be obeyed
    The future has got to be fuelled, and there's a price to be paid

    (as sung by Roy Bailey & Band of Hope)

Susannes Folksong-Notizen

  • nothing / nichts

Quelle: England

go back de  W-Index uk


Henry
 Sammlung : Susanne Kalweit (Kiel)
Layout : Henry Kochlin  (Schwerin)

aktualisiert am 5.06.2002