Sunday, June 03, 2007

FALSE BABYLON

Working for years, getting tears and peanuts
Dreams of a nation, drowning by international politics
Engineers, architects and Scientifics
All the talented on the same boat
A boat empty of despair
Full of hopes, dreams and fresh air
Sailing towards the dreams’ home
Thousands trying to reach the Promised Land
Hoping to finally reach Babylon
Not knowing that here, dreams are like sand
You hold tied, but they slip through your hands
Most talented of my people, in unskilled jobs I see
Wake up you all, wake up, this is a wake up call
You’re over qualified, but you’re cleaners and B.B.C.*
Your life is being wasted here. We need you all, back home
Caring for those who killed our past
Chants of freedom diluted never last
Emptying mum from strongs and cleavers
Another way to enslave us
Waiting for your arrival, get ready to be alone
Your dreams will fade and crash against the wall
Thick and dark of this false Babylon




God’s Son © 06-07
* BBC (British Bum Cleaner)

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