1. |
The hour of the skid
05:08
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We are dead 'n' we are alive
our heads are devoted to this hive
God my shirt does not suit my size
bloody rules, i'm paralized
Could'nt find me no proper job,
they're judgin' on a dreadlock !
Forced to rob,
for all i've got is a cell in this block
Starin' at the clock won't give me no food,
fightin' means to stay in the mood...
No submission
Sneakin' in the sewers to burn a nation
Breedin' - growin' - stealin - dealin' - learnin'
whatever it takes to be survivin'
but realise (we're) survivin' won't help the fact
they despise our thoughts and acts
So now, it is time to pick the lock
and to loot all the treasures kept in the stock...
Time keeps on goin', the rage stands,
but tools can be weapons in our hands,
kings are summoned to behave :
the master should always fear the slave !
Cops are just men with wives and kids,
few are insane...
Liars ! We don't want no disorder,
We want peace and food and weed and water
We will prefer
Death before dishonor
They cannot force me to take the train,
now that I know how to grow grain
And I feel and I trust it is not vain
to jump happily in the rain
Never trust what they say, never bend, never prey,
never lie, never fly too high,
never resign, never obey, never be distracted on the way
and if you are a lucky man... never die
No more chains
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2. |
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My Silks and fine array (by William Blake)
My silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air,
By love are driv'n away;
And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.
His face is fair as heav'n,
When springing buds unfold;
O why to him was't giv'n,
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is love's all worship'd tomb,
Where all love's pilgrims come.
Bring me an axe and spade,
Bring me a winding sheet;
When I my grave have made,
Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay.
True love doth pass away!
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3. |
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This song is a mix from two pems of William Blake
The little girl lost + The little girl refound
(you'll see II cut few passages)
In futurity
I prophetic see
That the earth from sleep
(Grave the sentence deep)
Shall arise, and seek
For her ---Maker--- meek;
And the desert wild
Become a garden mild.
In the southern clime,
Where the summer's prime
Never fades away,
Lovely Lyca lay.
Seven summers old
Lovely Lyca told.
She had wandered long,
Hearing wild birds' song.
'Sweet sleep, come to me,
Underneath this tree;
---Do father, mother, weep?
Where can Lyca sleep?---
'Lost in desert wild
Is your little child.
---How can Lyca sleep
If her mother weep?
'If her heart does ache,
Then let Lyca wake;
If my mother sleep,
Lyca shall not weep---
'Frowning, frowning night,
O'er this desert bright
Let thy moon arise,
While I close my eyes.'
Sleeping Lyca lay,
While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
Viewed the maid asleep.
The kingly lion stood,
And the virgin viewed:
Then he gambled round
O'er the hallowed ground.
Leopards, tigers, play
Round her as she lay;
While the lion old
Bowed his mane of gold,
And her bosom lick,
And upon her neck,
From his eyes of flame,
Ruby tears there came
While the lioness
Loosed her slender dress,
And naked they conveyed
To caves the sleeping maid.
All the night in woe
Lyca's parents go
Over valleys deep,
While the deserts weep.
Tired and woe-begone,
Hoarse with making moan,
Arm in arm, seven days
They traced the desert ways.
Seven nights they sleep
Among shadows deep,
And dream they see their child
Starved in desert wild.
Pale through pathless ways
The fancied image strays,
Famished, weeping, weak,
With hollow piteous shriek.
Rising from unrest,
The trembling woman pressed
With feet of weary woe;
She could no further go.
In his arms he bore
Her, armed with sorrow sore;
Till before their way
A couching lion lay.
Turning back was vain:
Soon his heavy mane
Bore them to the ground,
Then he stalked around,
Smelling to his prey;
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands,
And silent by them stands.
They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise;
And wondering behold
A spirit armed in gold.
On his head a crown,
On his shoulders down
Flowed his golden hair.
Gone was all their care.
'Follow me,' he said;
'Weep not for the maid;
In my palace deep,
Lyca lies asleep.'
Then they followed
Where the vision led,
And saw their sleeping child
Among tigers wild.
To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell,
Nor fear the wolvish howl
Nor the lion's growl.
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4. |
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Freely adapted from Ring out (Lord Alfred Tennyson)
Wild bells, to the wild sky,
flying cloud, frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
then let him die...
The old rings in the new,
(Ring) happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
The false rings in the true.
The grief that saps the mind
(Ring in) we see no more;
a slowly dying cause,
nobler modes of life,
with sweeter manners, purer laws.
The want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
False pride in place and blood,
civic slander and the spite;
the love of truth and right,
the common love of good.
Old shapes of foul disease;
narrowing lust of gold;
(Ring out) thousand wars of old,
thousand years of peace.
(Ring in) Valiant man and free,
larger heart, kindlier hand;
the darkness of the land,
(Ring in) the Christ that is to be.
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5. |
Deeper
01:24
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6. |
Somethin' is growin'
03:34
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Now that the trees are whisperin'
a message you newly keen on earin'
Pay attention to the shiverin' 'n'
to your fastened breathin'
everything is tellin' you somethin'
Your hands are so cold and so clean
your heart is pure of sins
At least, you're seen to be prayin'
Family values are the ones rockin'
Anything could be blowin' you
Every morning / awakening /
without knowin why muscles are leavin'
or your eyes openin'
Somethin' is growin'
'n' you're not listening
Everything is tellin' you somethin'
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7. |
Nouria
03:58
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So coba-a
Ani-o chala
Satafe courral oche
Saa cobarra
Tea-byo grillia
Toriar doche
So coba-a
Ani-o chala
Satafe courral ossa
Gorradjo balaachti
Imma
Nouria
Kineko ass-oul
O-nii
Gorradjo balaachti
Imma
Gordeo bebuia i ada
Atasatche morradillo derrilla
Courralo / Grillia
A toriar doche malo ke-biba
Gordeo bebuia i ada
Kineko ass-oul
O-nii
Gorradjo balaachti
Imma
Gordeo bebuia i ada
A nouria
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8. |
Snows of winter
01:33
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9. |
The dangerous bet
02:32
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A little boat on the sea
seeks for immortality
eating fire
Are you ready to die
for a pretty lie ?
heart straight open...
Should have... but i didn't
Shouln't have... but I did
Let it go
A little boat on the sea
seeks for immortality
... Eating fire...
I know what i've been through
I called life to sentence me
The seed came from a bone
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10. |
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From a (probably irish or scottish) trad.
you can find many versions of this oooold song
Black is the colour of my true love's hair.
Her lips are like like some rosy fair,
The purest eyes and the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon he stands.
I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep,
But satisfied I never could sleep.
Winter's passed and the leaves are green,
Time's passed that we have seen.
Still I hope the time will come
When you and I shall be as one.
The purest eyes and the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon he stands.
I'll write to you in few short lines,
I'll suffer death ten thousand times.
I know my love and well he knows,
I love the grass whereon he goes,
If she on earth no more I see...
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11. |
Dig
01:32
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12. |
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A poison tree (William Blake)
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
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13. |
The mournful legacy
07:48
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Let me tell you the story of a sad little man
who was so sure of bein' alone,
he was more beast than man.
From here to there he ran,
spoilin' the life of little fans...
He had a long life as you can guess,
while ghosts were wanderin' undressed.
Remember this song, mother-fucker,
each note, each word :
i'm comin' to get you !
As the life decided to let me go through...
I'm not dead ?!?
Even if i can't see your face for now,
the ice crackled on a sunny day
and now is a good time for the sinner to pay.
One day... I will know...
And that day... Well, you'll know too...
'Cos i'm comin' after you.
I've been in many places in my head,
searchin' for you...
I should have been livin' a life instead...
You left me for dead.
Now you are forced to sail,
'cos a hunter's after your tail...
You will know better with a knife in your chest...
This century's worst than Far-West
I'm proud to meet my destiny
Because of you I shot everyone around
'n' I killed all kind of bounds.
I was runnin' to found why the hell was turnin 'round,
'round, round 'n' round
the same sound.
Unsaid and unseen
- pleasure, guilt from the original scene -
endlessly death is what you bring.
Ghosts are willin' to appear since they know I feel no fear.
They came to lick my tears... I was about jumpin' from the roof.
They showed me your ring as a proof.
Then they gave me a horse,
showed me the air in the trees,
and told me...
To breathe...
Hm...
I could live knowin' that you're rotin' in the limbs of time,
'cos now, I am free.
But sometimes it itches, I can feel the stiches.
As you and all your frightened pairs
choosed to be blind 'n' to secure your lairs,
only an arson could be a fair offer...
I know it's nobody's fault,
we grow respondin' to assaults,
one way or another.
I will purify in flames the antic litttle game,
and the evil will fall on the ground,
or I'll burn the hole place down !
It ends here...
I am sorry for the pain I made you
I was a prick,
who hurted you, tortured you,
I changed...
Guilt was'nt yours.
I give to the world what you took.
I insist.
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14. |
It ain't for us to judge
02:38
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I look at we all
and i make a call
our lights are so small
see them decline and fall
But it ain't for us to judge
it ain't for us to judge
Sex is so overated
and love could turn into hatred
days after days rots the cherry
'till the cocktail glass turns empty
No way... is still a way
under the looks and the array
Tryin' to hug birds of prey is a funny game to play
as they don't have nothing to say
I see myself in you and
anything could be true
But when madness did brew
did you only drink a few
oh man it ain't for me to say
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Mournful Skank France
Mournful Skank is an experimental project exploring sad reggae, acoustic dark dub, hybrid skank
;)
I support free music (enter 0 for price).
Still, you can contribute if you like or use.
My work is under creative commons BYNCSA
My music is influenced by William Blake, les Béru, Coil, the Gladiators, Horace Andy, Dead Combo, Portishead, Tom Waits, Castaneda. Ainsi parlait Zarathoustra.
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