Μουσική
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Song : Four Women Artist : Nina Simone
My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is wooly
My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain
It’s been inflicted again and again
What do they call me
My name is aunt sarah
My name is aunt sarah
My skin is yellow
My hair is long
Between two worlds
I do belong
My father was rich and white
He forced my mother late one night
What do they call me
My name is siffronia
My name is siffronia
My skin is tan
My hair’s alright, it’s fine
My hips invite you
And my lips are like wine
Whose little girl am i?
Well yours if you have some money to buy
What do they call me
My name is sweet thing
My name is sweet thing
My skin is brown
And my manner is tough
I’ll kill the first mother I see
Cos my life has been too rough
I’m awfully bitter these days
Because my parents were slaves
What do they call me
My Name Is Peaches
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mississippi Goddamn.
Alabama's got me so upset.
Tennessee made me lose my rest.
And everybody knows about Mississippi Goddamn.
Can't you see it can't you feel it
It's all in the air
I can't stand the pressure much longer
Somebody say a prayer...
This is a show tune
But the show hasn't been written for it yet....
Hound dogs on my trail
Schoolchildren sitting in jail
Black cat crossed my path
I think every day's gonna be my last
Lord have mercy on this land of mine
We're all gonna get it in due time
I don't belong here I don't belong there
I've even stopped believing in prayer
Don't tell me I tell you
Me and my people just about do
I've been there so I know
Keep on saying GO SLOW
But that's just the trouble TOO SLOW
Washing the windows TOO SLOW
Picking the cotton TOO SLOW
You're just plain rotten TOO SLOW
Too damn lazy TOO SLOW
Thinking's crazy TOO SLOW
Where am I going?
What am I doing?
I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW!
.Just try to do your very best
Stand up be counted with all the rest
'Cause everybody knows about Mississippi Goddamn.
I bet you thought
I was kidding didn't you?....
Yes you LIED to me all these years
You told me to wash and clean my ears
And talk real fine just like a lady
And you'd stop calling me Sister Sadie.
Oh but this whole country is full of lies!
You're all gonna die and die like flies....
I don't trust you anymore
You keep on saying go slow go slow
But that's just the trouble: TOO SLOW!
Desegregation TOO SLOW!
Mass participation TOO SLOW!
Unification TOO SLOW!
Do things gradually TOO SLOW!
Will bring more tragedy TOO SLOW!
Why don't you see it? Why don't you feel it?
I don't know I don't know....
You don't have to live next to me,
just give me my equality..
And everybody knows about Mississippi
Everybody knows about Alabama
Everybody knows about Mississippi Goddamn.
That's it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I Pity The Poor Immigrant
written by Bob Dylan.
I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he would've stayed home,
Who uses all his power to do evil
But in the end is always left so alone.
That man whom with his fingers cheats
And who lies with ev'ry breath,
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise, fears his death.
I pity the poor immigrant
Whose strength is spent in vain,
Whose heaven is like Ironsides,
Whose tears are like rain,
Who eats but is not satisfied,
Who hears but does not see,
Who falls in love with wealth itself
And turns his back on me.
I pity the poor immigrant
Who tramples through the mud,
Who fills his mouth with laughing
And who builds his town with blood,
Whose visions in the final end
Must shatter like the glass.
I pity the poor immigrant
When his gladness comes to pass.
"Southern Man" by Neil Young
Southern man
better keep your head
Don't forget
what your good book said
Southern change
gonna come at last
Now your crosses
are burning fast
Southern man
I saw cotton
and I saw black
Tall white mansions
and little shacks.
Southern man
when will you
pay them back?
I heard screamin'
and bullwhips cracking
How long? How long?
Southern man
better keep your head
Don't forget
what your good book said
Southern change
gonna come at last
Now your crosses
are burning fast
Southern man
Lily Belle,
your hair is golden brown
I've seen your black man
comin' round
Swear by God
I'm gonna cut him down!
I heard screamin'
and bullwhips cracking
How long? How long?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MR. CAB DRIVER Written by: Lenny Kravitz
Mr. Cab Driver won't you stop to let me in
Mr. Cab Driver don't you like my kind of skin
Mr. Cab Driver you're never gonna win
Mr. Cab Driver won't stop to pick me up
Mr. Cab Driver I might need some help
Mr. Cab Driver only thinks about himself
Mr. Cab Driver
Mr. Cab Driver
Mr. Cab Driver don't like the way I look
He don't like dreads he thinks we're all crooks
Mr. Cab Driver reads too many story books
Mr. Cab Driver pass me up with eyes of fire
Mr. Cab Driver thinks we're all 165'ers
Mr. Cab Driver ..... you I'm a survivor
Let me in
Mr. Cab Driver
Mr. Cab Driver
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LAUGH AT ME Sonny (Sonny Bono)
Why can't I, be like any guy?
Why do they try to make me run?
Son of a gun, now.
What do they care, about the clothes I wear?
Why get their kicks from making fun, yeah
This world's got a lot of space
and if they don't like my face
It ain't me that's going anywhere, no
so I don't care
Let 'em laugh at me
If that's the fare
I have to pay to be free
then baby
Laugh at me, and I'll cry for you
and I'll pray for you
and I'll do all the things that the man upstairs says to do
I'll do 'em for you
I'll do 'em
I'll do 'em all for you
It's gotta stop someplace
It's gotta stop sometime
I'll make sure that she's mine
And maybe the next guy
that don't wear a silk tie
he can walk by and say "Hi"
say, "Hi"
instead of why
instead of why
instead of why babe
instead of why
what did I do to you
I don't know what to do
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Billie Holiday - Strange Fruit
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves
Blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
The scent of magnolia sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck
for the rain to gather
for the wind to suck
for the sun to rot
for the tree to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop
Composed by Abel Meeropol (aka Lewis Allan)
Originally sung by: Billie Holiday
Bob Dylan Desolation Row
They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row
Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row
Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row
Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row
Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row
Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have Mercy on His Soul"
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row
Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They're spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get Outa Here If You Don't Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row"
Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row
Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row
Σχετικά με το τραγούδι εδώ,
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Comments (0)
You don't have permission to comment on this page.