Carrier Pigeon

Efter några dagars tystnad på bloggen tänkte jag överrösta den ekande tystnaden med en låttext jag skrev i veckan. I kontrast till mina tidigare inlägg blir detta betydligt mer seriöst, men ombyte förnöjer, inte sant? Låten har jag valt att kalla Carrier Pigeon och den handlar om en brevduvas kamp för att nå fram med sitt budskap. Jag skulle vilja dedikera detta alster till Bradley Manning, som inte kunde vara tyst när han såg orättvisans ondska och förrådde sitt land för rättvisa och godhets skull. En av de få amerikanska soldater som faktiskt vore värd att hylla för sitt hjältemod. Idag är han fängslad och betraktad som en terrorist, men jag hoppas att står på sig, annars gör någon annan det.

A blowiness of quiet despair
Stretching through the halls
A groundswell under desperate wings
A feather soaring through the air
Is writing on the walls
The message a feathered creature brings

The carrier pigeon make its’ way
From a concrete-grey disguise
It flies, it reaches for the sky
And if the pigeon dives someday
Searching for lost lives
The lives, for whom that it may die
 
Then the shooting man
Will raise his dirty hand
When the pigeon’s wings turn red
The blood drips on his head

When loudly spoken letters fly
They’ll cut into his heart
Like the screams cut into his ears
Suddenly a watchful eye
Tear his mind apart
Exposed to face his deepest fears

The carrier pigeon trapped inside
A frightened man’s cage
The groundswell will no longer due
‘Cause when a man got things to hide
He’s lost unto his rage
The world is no more the one he knew

From a pair of wings
An outlaw’s sorrow brings
A man to hate
To refuse his fate

The carrier pigeon face its’ death
No more will it fly
Abused and silenced once for all
No one will miss that little breath
No one will hear the cry
Surrounded by a concrete wall

A soldier’s badge is soaked and wet
Stained by flesh and blood
But now a new one he deserves
There are no feelings of regret
They’re washed out in the flood
Now, for him, soldiers preserves

When the pigeon’s dead
A vulture’s being fed
To grow solid and strong
To protect what’s wrong
They say it’s a difference
Flesh to flesh in self-defense
We’re not one human race
When only some can pick the ace

But sometime, somewhere along the way
A messege was found
And the thought was planted in a mind
And now from that very day
A feather on the ground
Shows a brave thing made for humankind

La la la…

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About milkaddiction

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