viernes, 21 de mayo de 2010

Joshua James - Coal War (letra)


Tal parece que ya me gustó esto de tener el paso más rápido de lo habitual... pero con este tema me detengo y a medida que se acerca más y más a mi oído, puedo sentir el cosquilleo por mi espalda si... esto que comienza sutilmente... casi a capella esa voz que te atrapa y pasa un poco de tiempo y llega una transformación poderosa y tan espiritual que se hace un himno rockero agregando un tipo de tambores jaja de la milicia con unos tantos lamentos, que se van repitiendo y cuando se apaga la luz... se forma un silencio y me digo: "Puedo apresurarme y correr y correr, pero tengo la certeza que no me puedo, ni quiero ocultar"



I ain't cutting my hair till the good lord comes.I ain't cutting my hair till the good lord comes.I ain't cutting my hair till the good lord comes.
I ain't cutting my hair till the good lord comes- arrive upon the mountain just to see what we have done,
I ain't cutting my hair, cutting till the good lord comes.
I ain't open my eyes till we all walk free.

I ain't open my eyes till we all walk free- till the color of our skin it don't mean a damn thing.
I ain't open my eyes, open till we all walk free.
I ain't pickin' up a paper till the wild wind blows.

I ain't pickin up a paper till the wild wind blows- till we should say what we should say, till we know what we should know.
I ain't pickin up a paper, pickin till the wild wind blows.
Cuz it's a coal, it's a coal war.
Cuz it's a coal, it's a coal war.
I ain't cutting my hair till the good lord comes- arrive upon the mountain just to see what we have done,
I ain't cutting my hair, cutting till the good lord comes.
I ain't cutting my hair till the good lord comes- arrive upon the mountain just to see what we have done,
I ain't cutting my hair, cutting till the good lord comes.
If we don't walk free with hand in heart, it's time.
If we cannot see all we destroy, we're blind.
It's not the hand that cuts, it's the heart we left behind
It's not the hand that cuts, it's the hatred deep inside.
Five dollars and a head to keep, with dull black scissors and some kerosene; you burnt the house, but you came to bid him well.
What a thing to tell, "Store poison in the well."
Just to say, just to say, just to say, just to say...
I ain't cutting my hair till the good lord comes.

I ain't cutting my hair till the good lord comes- arrive upon the mountain just to see what we have done,
I ain't cutting my hair, cutting till the good lord comes.
Til the good lord comes.

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