For all our languages we can't communicate For all our native tongues we're all native here Sons of their fathers' dream the same dream The sound of forbidden words become a scream Voices of anger, victims of history Plundered and set aside, grown fat on swallowed pride With promises of paradise and gifts of beads and knives Missionaries and pioneers are all soldiers in disguise Saviors and conquerors they make us wait The fishers of men they wave their truth like bait With the touch of a strangers' hand innocence turns to shame The spirit that dwelt within it sleeps out in the rain For all our native tongues we can't communicate For all our native tongues we're all natives here The scars of the past are slow to disappear The cries of the dead are always in our ears Only the very safe can talk about wrong and right Of those who are forced to choose some will choose to fight
Promesses de paradis terrestre, Presents de perles et de coutreaux Missionnaires et poinniers sont des soldats saveurs deguises Survivants et conquerants, Ils nous font attendre Des charlatans ondulant Leur verite comme un applat Au toucher d'une main atrange L'innocence se convertit en deshonneur L'esprit qui demeure a l'interieur Dort dans la pluie
Malgre toutes nos langues, Nous ne pouvons communiquer Malgre toutes nos langues natives, Nous sommes tous natifs ici Les cicatrices du passe sont lentes a disparaitre Les complaintes des morts resonnent toujours Dans notre tete le bien du mal De ceux forces de choisir, Quelques uns choisiront de lutter
Printer Friendly Version
