Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Blues For The Horn, artist - K'NAAN. Album song The Dusty Foot Philosopher, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 12.10.2008
Record label: Interdependent Media
Song language: English
Blues For The Horn |
Yes! |
Yes yes* |
In a conservative form |
I wanna ask you a few things before I conform |
To the popular belief about where I was born |
Are they still illin', still killin’poppin’the corn? |
How’s the horn, how’s the love wavin’the ocean morn'? |
How 'bout the young, do they still possess the poetry tongue? |
And do they still grief like the depth of the lung? |
How’s the nomad, did the herd graze well this year? |
From the news to what I know the growin’gap ain’t clear |
How’s the earth, how 'bout the stars and the |
Do you still await on change like a new moon’s birth? |
Does it still flood ancient wisdom parallel with blur? |
Do you still see the pain deep? |
Or did you fight off the plight of the colonized mind? |
What of the rainy season, do the kids still bury seeds? |
And get taken with uncertainty like me scared of leavin? |
' |
How are the poets, the women and the orphans torn? |
I miss 'em all like, old opportunities gone |
What of the elders, story tellers in abandoned homes |
Miss 'em all like, childhood, reminisceful songs |
Disputes, do they still settle 'em by bloodying your shoes? |
Fist rules, rather finger equipped with sick tools |
What of the wind, I recall it was serenity’s end |
When the breeze would come and the trees would bend |
And the people would say «look what it leads with sin». |
And the air was violent and our care was silent |
And the only law we was a pair of tyrants |
Man you know, this is why I’m down in deep indigo |
And I sleep really poor, on the circumstance floor |
Anyway, how’s stress, does it still rule your chest? |
Do still rape baby girls without breasts? |
How are moms, are they still screaming «put away the arms»? |
And against the dispossession of their family-owned farms |
How are the many rivers and the lakes and the seas |
Are they still angry with us for our poisonous deeds |
How are the many rivers and the lakes and the seas |
Are they still angry, at Africa |
So who’s dead and who’s alive, did the raids multiply? |
Did the poor fight the draught with their minimum supply? |
Did the warlords abort the wars and force a part of the peace to pork? |
To promote disease and easening 'creased divorce? |
What of police and courts, are they still heatin’forests? |
Leaking pores and cheatedly to the bleeding corpse |
What of the kind and good, can they still, laugh intensely |
Like the, mind and word or is it, innocent slaughters by way the, iron stood |
And what of the playwrights, reflection in the scapes of great sights |
Revolution from power’s the writings of brave fights |
Despite the legendry that you hear we left by |
I head with refuges and niggers they shit right, and |
Don’t you play soccer by the ocean front? |
In America, I shovel the snow while I’m smoking blunts |
You mean to tell me that you out there still totin’guns? |
Blow incense of the hardened hardly copin’moms |
Damn you and circumstance too I can’t stand you |
You make a mockery of our struggle with plans too |
And I swear to god I wish you helped back/beck? |
too |
And I caressed the Europeans who instigated your words |
And I curse the Russians who impregnated the they call birth and hurts 'cause |
you never wake and see the death snake |
It’s like the conflict of self, submerged in satanic hate |
Remember walking back and hide from school |
Bare feet, the hot sand, massaging our feet is |
'Cause now my mother slips on the ice and her back is weak. |
And I feel like a failure, a mute in the age of speech, |
I said I feel like a failure, a mute in the age of speech, |
Man I feel like a failure, a mute in the age of speech. |