|
|
|
|
parte 10 di 10
Washington Bullets
(The
Clash)
Oh! Mama, Mama look there! Your children are playing in that street again Don't you know what happened down there? A youth of fourteen got shot down there The Kokane guns of Jamdown Town The killing clowns, the blood money men Are shooting those Washington bullets again As every cell in Chile will tell The cries of the tortured men Remember Allende, and the days before, Before the army came Please remember Victor Jara, In the Santiago Stadium, Es verdad - those Washington Bullets again And in the Bay of Pigs in 1961, Havana fought the playboy in the Cuban sun, For Castro is a colour, Is a redder than red, Those Washington bullets want Castro dead For Castro is the colour... ...That will earn you a spray of lead For the very first time ever, When they had a revolution in Nicaragua, There was no interference from America Human rights in America Well the people fought the leader, And up he flew... With no Washington bullets what else could he do? 'N' if you can find a Afghan rebel That the Moscow bullets missed Ask him what he thinks of voting Communist... ...Ask the Dalai Lama in the hills of Tibet, How many monks did the Chinese get? In a war-torn swamp stop any mercenary, 'N' check the British bullets in his armoury Que? Sandinista!
(Strummer/Rhodes)
Punk rockers, hip-hoppers Brit poppers, show stoppers Beboppers, hair droppers Are you ready to sing? Right wing, left wing I want something To see me through (???) Bout what do you think We ain't gonna be treated like trash We got one thing We are the Clash What? We are the Clash It's like a patch You can strike that match With my guitar now (???) last dance I see them where they (???) How they usually stay Beating on a drum Did they tell them 'take it in' Got the (???) Where the fat boy blew We ain't gonna be treated like trash We got one thing We are the Clash That's right We are the Clash It's like a patch You can strike that match Home fires burnin' In motorcycle city The rockin' gods will choose If I'm worthy to live The first (???) engine (???) forty-six And there's no more (???) To imitate respect We ain't gonna be treated like trash We got one thing We are the Clash Don't take no shit We are the Clash Do ya hear me? It's like a patch You can strike that match
(Strummer/Jones/Levene)
What the hell is wrong with me? I'm not who I want to be I tired spot cream an' I tried it all
I'm crawling up the wall! What's my name naaaame...naaaame....naaaame.... I tried to join a ping-pong club,
sign on the door said all full up! I got nicked, fighting in the road
an' the judge didn't even know What's my name Dad go pissed so I got clocked Couldn't hear the Tannoy so he lost the lot Offers Mum a bribe through the letter box Drives you fucking mad What's my name Now I'm round the back of your house at night Peeping in the window - are you sleeping tight? I laugh at your locks with my celloid strip An' you won't know who came What's my name
White
Man In Hammersmith Palais
(Strummer/Jones)
Midnight to six man For the first time from Jamaica Dillinger and Leroy Smart Delroy Wilson, your cool operator Ken Boothe for UK pop reggae With backing bands sound systems And if they've got anything to say There's many black ears here to listen But it was Four Tops all night
with encores from stage right Charging from the bass knives to the treble But onstage they ain't got no roots rock rebel Onstage they ain't got no...roots rock rebel Dress back jump back this is a bluebeat attack 'Cos it won't get you anywhere Fooling with your guns The British Army is waiting out there An' it weighs fifteen hundred tons White youth, black youth Better find another solution Why not phone up Robin Hood And ask him for some wealth distribution Punk rockers in the UK They won't notice anyway They're all too busy fighting For a good place under the lighting The new groups are not concerned With what there is to be learned They got Burton suits, ha you think it's funny Turning rebellion into money All over people changing their votes Along with their overcoats If Adolf Hitler flew in today They'd send a limousine anyway I'm the all night drug-prowling wolf Who looks so sick in the sun I'm the white man in the Palais Just lookin' for fun I'm only Looking for fun
(Strummer/Jones)
White riot - I wanna riot White riot - a riot of my own White riot - I wanna riot White riot - a riot of my own Black people gotta lot a problems But they don't mind throwing a brick White people go to school Where they teach you how to be thick An' everybody's doing Just what they're told to An' nobody wants To go to jail! All the power's in the hands Of people rich enough to buy it While we walk the street Too chicken to even try it Everybody's doing Just what they're told to Nobody wants To go to jail! Are you taking over or are you taking orders? Are you going backwards Or are you going forwards?
(C.
Alphanso)
Stagger Lee met Billy and they go down to gambling Stagger Lee throwed seven Billy said that he throwed eight So Billy said, hey Stagger!
I'm gonna make my big attack I'm gonna have to leave my knife in your back Why do you try to cheat? And trample people under your feet Don't you know it is wrong? To cheat the trying man So you better stop, it is the wrong 'em boyo You lie, steal, cheat and deceit In such a small, small game Don't you know it is wrong Billy Boy has been shot And Stagger Lee's come out on top Don't you know it is wrong To cheat the trying man To cheat Stagger man You'd better stop So you must start all over again-all over again You got to play it, Billy, play,
you got to play it, Billy, play And you will find it is the right 'em boyo But if you must lie and deceit And trample people under your feet Don't you know it is wrong It is the wrong 'em boyo
Torna alla