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Natives, by Christy Moore of Ireland

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"Natives", by Christy Moore of Ireland

 

 

Dedicated today by Das Goravani to

the Arabs and Muslims

currently under American Guns and Hatred

 

 

 

"Natives"

 

For all of our languages we can't communicate

For all of our native tongues, we're all natives here

Sons of their fathers' dream the same scream

The sound of the forbidden words becomes a scream

 

Voices in agner, victims of history

Plundered and set aside, grown fat on swallowed pride

With promises of paradise and gifts of beads and knives

Missionaies and pioneers are soldiers in disguise

 

Survivors 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

 

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

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