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Versuri Roy Harper - I Hate the White Man

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Videoclipuri Roy Harper I Hate the White Man
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Far across the ocean

In the land of look and see

There once was a time

For you and me



Where the winds blow sweetly

And the easy seas flow still

And where the barefoot dream of life

Can laugh and cry its fill



Where slot machine confusions

And the plastic universe

Are objects of amusement

In the fiction of their curse



And where the crazy whiteman

And his teargas happiness

Lies dead and long since buried

By his own fantastic mess



For I hate the whiteman

And his plastic excuse

For I hate the whiteman

And the man who turned him loose...



And the reins of coloured thunder

Of the stallion of the dawn

Ride the coalfire morning

On the beach where all is born



Where the emperor of meaning

Is burning up his forts

And sits to warm his toes around

A fire made up of useless thoughts



And when the children tempt him

With the riddles of their trance

He flings the flames of solstice

Casting laughs into their dance



And while a crazy whiteman

In the desert of his bones

Lies as bleached as the paradise

He likes to think he owns



And I hate the whiteman

In his evergreen excuse

Oh I hate the whiteman

And the man who turned him loose...



And far across the reaches

Of the drifting yellow sands

The living carpet wilderness

Forever joins its hands



With heaven hell's attainment

In a surging crest of fire

Where more than all is thrown upon

The ever lasting pyre



And through the countless canticles

Of Jason's charcoal fleece

Are sung the songs of nothing

In the timeless masterpiece



And there stood in the middle

Guess who?

It's the everlasting burst

Built by god's very own whiteman

As he tries to rule the dust



And I hate the whiteman

In his doctrinaire abuse

Oh I hate the whiteman

And the man who turned you all loose...



And the bowels of his city

Have been locked into a safe

Where the spew stains on the sidewalks

Are defenders of his faith



While back inside his kitchen

The bowler hatted, long haired saint

Cleans with soap and water

But it's really just white paint



While his golden headed scandal sheets

Present their daily bite

To give their righteous news-bleeders

Drugs to keep them white



While outside in the whitewash

Where the guns are always, always right

A shooting star has summoned

Its dark angel from his night





And I hate the whiteman

And his evergreen excuse

Oh I hate the whiteman

And the man who turned you all loose

And the man who turned him loose...

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