| Now, could we go to the square they call Congo?
|
| I need to go and lay my feet upon the stone
|
| Where the first of us stood before, before, before
|
| Where we sat and played to revive our depleted souls
|
| Where we went to forget our freedom was not our own
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| Where we went to hold onto the memories of way back home
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| Now could we, now could we
|
| Now could we go?
|
| Get to cong — get to cong — Congo
|
| Get to cong — get to Congo
|
| Now could we go to the square they call Congo?
|
| I need to go and lay my feet upon the stone
|
| Where the first of us stood before, before, before
|
| Where we made music in remembrance of human bodies sold
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| Where the sounds of an old pain became the new music of hope
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| Where they paved me a road so I could get to Congo
|
| Now could we, now could we
|
| Now could we go?
|
| Get to cong — get to cong — Congo
|
| Get to cong — get to Congo
|
| And I would not be here today
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| If they had not been so displaced, so displaced
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| But still — tut still they made time to sing and play a song
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| A song in Congo
|
| Get to cong — get to cong — Congo
|
| Get to cong — get to Congo |