Резултати претраге

Fado of the Eagles

Oh, eagle who flies so high
Above those lands over there
Oh, eagle who flies so high
Ay, above those lands over there
Take me to the skies where I have
Ay, my mother's soul
My mother's soul
 
The tears that I cried
Take them because they are pure
The tears that I cried
Ay, take them because they are pure
They are the prayers I prayed
Ay, with longing and tenderness
With longing and tenderness
 

At the Pitch-Dark Lake

At the pitch-dark lake
No lights in the sky or with God
So come hug the atheists
At the pitch-dark lake
So come hug the atheists
At the pitch-dark lake
 
At the pitch-dark lake
The night doesn't come without signals
That make the mortals tremble
At the pitch-dark lake
 
But those who aren't mean shouldn't go
Because me, Heaven won't be bought
I see no reason to be
Those who fear and don't want to live
 
No lights in the sky, just me
At the pitch-dark lake
No lights in the sky, just me as me
At the pitch-dark lake
 
At the pitch-dark lake
The fingers of the night go together
To cover the deceased
At the pitch-dark lake
To cover the deceased
At the pitch-dark lake
 
At the pitch-dark lake
The moon rose but no one
Asks who's going or who's coming
At the pitch-dark lake
 
But those who aren't mean shouldn't go
Because me, Heaven won't be bought
I see no reason to be
Those who fear and don't want to live
 
No lights in the sky, just me as me
At the pitch-dark lake
No lights in the sky, just me as me
At the pitch-dark lake
 
At the pitch-dark lake
Lost girls, I know
But I only found myself among these lives
At the pitch-dark lake
 
But those who aren't mean shouldn't go
Because me, Heaven won't be bought
I see no reason to be
Those who fear and don't want to live
 
No lights in the sky, just me as me
At the pitch-dark lake
No lights in the sky, just me as me
At the pitch-dark lake
 

The Indians of the Meia-Praia

Meia-Praia Village
Right next to Lagos
I’m gonna write you a song
As best as i can
 
From Monte-Gordo they came
Some of them walking on foot
One arrived by bike
Another went astern
 
When your eyes stumble
On a seagull flight
Instead of fish they see pieces
Of gold falling in the fish market
 
Whoever comes to live here
Don’t bring tables nor beds
With six feet of land
You can build a hut
 
You work all year round
At the fish market they leave you mute
They rob you up to the bones
They take away your scalp
 
I wish we had
The bravery of Agostinho*
To feed the rage
Of strangulating the bourgeoisie
 
I said goodbye to Monte-Gordo
(Nothing holds him to bad memories)
But nothing holds him to the present
If only he is fooled
 
Eight thousand counted hours
Were rigorously laboured
Until it came the first
Certified Document
 
They were women and children
Each one carrying it’s brick
'This was an orchestra '
Who says otherwise is a fool
 
And if the spiteful tongues don’t cease
I won’t leave here alive
For nothing erases the nobleness
Of the indians of the Meia-Praia
 
It has always been your trademark
A shark with a thousand scraps
Leaving everything suspended
When you’re glancing the pray
 
From the finished elections
From the expected result
Came out what you have seen
Lots of withholding works
 
But not by one’s will
Because the fight will carry on
Since this is his story
And the people took the streets
 
High finance leaders
Make everything go backwards
They say the world only moves on
Having a foreman in charge
 
They were women and children
Each one carrying it’s brick
'This was an orchestra'
Who says otherwise is a fool
 
And let’s get on with the paperwork
In the toing and froing of the ministries
But they will run away from screams
And band is still in the streets