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Blood on a Burberry Jacket
Streaked but it won't soak through
There's a young man praying
For a passing patrol car.
On a street that they don't go to.
This is no ordinary return
The day turned lethal
This is no ordinary return
Should have taken the "special"
This is no ordinary return.
Grip on a stolen cheque-card
He was going to sign it there
There's a diesel stopping for the snappiest shopper
All dressed to kill in his leisure wear.
A blue, blue sky
Goes rolling over and over
Till the smoke comes pouring
From a stolen Rover.
Crowd at the ticket turnstile
Set for a seat in the stand
And they all pass running
Till there's one of them stretched out
Marked by more than the makers brand.
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RADIO AFRICA CONTINUED
(Skaith/Keefe/Jones)
They’ve still got trouble, never seems to end
And it’s not just Mugabe, who you can’t defend
The UN and Rwanda keeping the Congo on its knees
And those gouging fortunes in the ANC
Still hearing all this bad news on Radio Africa
Still hearing all this sad news on Radio Africa
Every second child here, lives out on Orphan Street
Looking out with eyes, eyes they know the west can’t meet
Needing more than handouts and much more than seeds to sow
But they need antiretroviral, and a chance to grow
Still hearing all this bad news on Radio Africa
Still hearing all this sad news on Radio Africa
There are flames from a fire of a burning witch
And there’s a war for the earth that is coltan rich
Oh the market curse just turned from bad to worse
And the promise just rots in the mud
There is a diamond mine and the oil pipeline
Both of them running in blood
So many movements went nowhere
But ‘investment’ means and ‘interest’ means it’s harder to fight
Independence had a hidden expense
When the hands on the purse strings were white
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No Rope as Long as Time
(Skaith)
Old Afrikaner farmer on the terrace of his home
Sits gently in his rocking chair, gazing at this land he owns.
There he sees his memories and there his past
There he smiles his grim smile, strokes his gun, swears he'll make it last.
Someone brings the whisky, someone serves the meal
Like the someone in the township, in the mine and in the field.
Someone at the graveyard, someone with their tears
There’s someone who can't forget the freedom lost these 100 years.
Old man, you can boost about the gun that's by your bed
Old man, you can tell me how you're good for all your kaffirs yet
And the guns can fire, and your prisons fill
And you've yards of rope for hanging still
But the guns can shoot and never hit the sky
And there's no rope as long as time.
Mandela in the prison, Steve Biko in the ground
Sharpeville and Soweto voices silenced till the end of time.
Freedom don't come easy, don't come bloodless, don't come fast
But in the hearts of the countless people
No pass law's gonna stop it pass.
Old man, you can boost about the gun that's by your bed
Old man, you can tell me how you're good for all your kaffirs yet
And the guns can fire, and your prisons fill
And you've yards of rope for hanging still
But the guns can shoot and never hit the sky
And there's no rope as long as time.
Sometimes he talks of reasons, economy and cause
Sometimes he'll even talk of changes
Though he clasps the gun and talks of law.
But power ain't this old man's gift
And freedom's no reform
The old man chose this history
And the history's stays a history wars.
Old man, you can boost about the gun that's by your bed
Old man, you can tell me how you're good for all your kaffirs yet
And the guns can fire, and your prisons fill
And you've yards of rope for hanging still
But the guns can shoot and never hit the sky
And there's no rope as long as time.
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Toulouse
It's a life-time from the leather stalls
The Berbers and bazaars
Down through every measured movement
In the making of the cars.
And it doesn't pay much
And it doesn't leave scars - on the outside
And they give you the impression
It's all Monet and Braque
But the oil they squeeze on their palettes
They never use on this track.
And every extra filter
Is a fissure, is a crack - on the inside
All this way - Toulouse
Another day - Toulouse
You've come too far - Toulouse
And he walks in right behind you
As you both go punching in
And you both pick up your rivets
From an aluminium bin.
And he thinks what makes him different
Is the colour of his skin - it's on the outside
All this way - Toulouse
Another day - Toulouse
You've come too far - Toulouse.
You've had their OAS
You've had their CGT
And no-one will be working here
When they bring in C
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America for Beginners
(Skaith/Jones)
What's keeping the White House white
Is it chalk, Is it fog, Is it fear?
Are they staying up most of the night
And sending somebody out for the beers?
Is it bed-time for Bonzo?
Is it time for a change?
Is it flavour-free TV dinners?
Oh it's a hard thing to take, when they make a mistake
America for Beginners.
The sound of a bell with a crack
Even the swingers are swinging right
The vigilantes are on the way back
With prime-time 'fight the good fight'.
What a start to a day
Starts three times with a "K"
There's no sponsored hour for sinners
They'll bring back the hot seat
They’re gonna turn up the heat
In America for Beginners
That's America for
America for Beginners
That's America for
America for Beginners
That's America for
America for Beginners
You wear designer jeans after dark
And your shirts are sharp-cut in satin
But won't you watch out for Central Park
And the apartments in uptown Manhattan.
It's a sign of the times
You’d better stay out in front
Because they've only got time for winners.
Just keep living for fun, you son of a gun
In America for Beginners.
That's America for
America for Beginners
That's America for
America for Beginners
That's America for
America for Beginners
Everywhere there's stripes and stars
Men in dark suits in unmarked cars
Sipping Jack Daniels in Third World bars
They're close to the edge.
As close as you can get
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10. |
Latin Quarter - Eddie
03:56
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Eddie
Looking at the water
Through the spaces of an iron-ore train
The water eddies round the rushes
And Eddies round at my house, insane.
The breakers in the distance
Cut the air like the crackle of a CB rig.
They found a crack in Eddie
And they tore it down, and snapped him like a twig.
His head is full of Goose Green
Tastes the smoke from the damp grass, well alight
And Eddie's waiting for the choppers
And he goes on waiting long into the night.
And I thought I heard a voice
Didn't someone here just whisper, "Rejoice".
The harbour's filled with newsmen,
Little boats go bobbing, like a Dunkirk repeat
To a train ride and a welcome
And "Well done, Eddie" right across the street.
The water's grey and choppy
On the Lake out by the fairground big wheel.
We could circle it forever
But we'd never guess the way that Eddie feels.
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Seaport September
Feel that wet concrete through the seat of your jeans
No cab-fare, just the cold air
You're a man without means.
A bank roll lighter and light years older
Someone's hand was in your pocket
While they cried on your shoulder.
Don't stare at that man in the tropic white suit, ah!
He may mop his brow but he's liable to shoot yah!
He's no Peter Lorre, he's no merry prankster,
He'll help you to find out
Why they put "angst" into "ganster".
Seaport September, a night to remember
Bad Luck is no exclusive club
They just make you a member.
Sometimes it's easy to forget where you are
When Marseilles seems just a day away
Before this Singapore bar.
Asking a Joe, does he know somewhere finer
Then a blow up and your show up
On a slower boat to China.
And a head that might be yours
Is aching on a lower bunk
Did you really set to sea
To be a sailor on this junk?
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THE NEW MILLIONAIRES
(Jeffries/Jones)
You can spend a cheque in the morning
And go hungry the same afternoon
Sometimes the only quarters between you and a rainstorm
Are the quarters of the moon?
You know that for every one way to sit up
There must be 500 ways to beg
How can you ever be a man of standing
With a chain wrapped round your leg?
Just like Arbogast on the top two stairs
You’re waiting for a carver to come cutting through your cares
You’re living on your savings but saving up your prayers
Come on down
New millionaires
The famous say walk in their footsteps
But don’t you go tread on the toes
And if you wait for luck to open up
You’ll be waiting there to see it close
Well it might have been a viscount
Or it might have been a prince
But when he said enjoy your leisure
He did nothing to convince us
Just like Arbogast on the top two stairs
You’re waiting for a carver to come cutting through your cares
You’re living on your savings but saving up your prayers
Come on down
New millionaires
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14. |
On tour - conversation
24:21
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15. |
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Latin Quarter UK
Latin Quarter are celebrating the 40th anniverary of their 'Modern Times'-album this year. They first burst onto the scene with their singles "Radio Africa" and "New Millionaires" – songs that stayed for months in the German single charts in the 80s. The band split up in 1998. In 2011 five of the original musicians got together again. 7 new albums released after this reunion. . ... more
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