When we left the Saigon embassy
The last ones out the door
We fire-bombed their paperwork
To cover up their war
We partied on the Arizona
Until after twenty days
When the lights of San Diego
Woke us from our drunken haze
And then the general calls us back, he says,
"We need you to assist"
When they paid us off in unmarked bills
I guess we got the gist
With two vatos out of Houston
And one from San Antone
In the bloody streets of Salvador
They left us on our own
Now we don't meddle in their politics
We could not take the pain
Ain't the way we analyze
Ain't the way we train
We know twelve dialects of Spanish
Plus the one in Panama
We're the MVP's for the CIA
PTSD and all
So you can keep my bronze medallions
You can stick my silver stars
All I need is something I can spend
In this Guatemalan bar
Fourteen rounds, a Belgian Browning
And a two-star general's pay
And I'll keep right on a-killin'
for the United S. of A.
So as I look out on these mountains
From the nightclub Carribelle
Some officer is ordering
civilians shot to hell
And I think of my own country
How she treated me so bad
And how we finally found a way to live
The best we ever have
Compañeros out of Saigon
The last to leave that day
But we been twenty years a killin'
for the United S. of A.
The last ones out the door
We fire-bombed their paperwork
To cover up their war
We partied on the Arizona
Until after twenty days
When the lights of San Diego
Woke us from our drunken haze
And then the general calls us back, he says,
"We need you to assist"
When they paid us off in unmarked bills
I guess we got the gist
With two vatos out of Houston
And one from San Antone
In the bloody streets of Salvador
They left us on our own
Now we don't meddle in their politics
We could not take the pain
Ain't the way we analyze
Ain't the way we train
We know twelve dialects of Spanish
Plus the one in Panama
We're the MVP's for the CIA
PTSD and all
So you can keep my bronze medallions
You can stick my silver stars
All I need is something I can spend
In this Guatemalan bar
Fourteen rounds, a Belgian Browning
And a two-star general's pay
And I'll keep right on a-killin'
for the United S. of A.
So as I look out on these mountains
From the nightclub Carribelle
Some officer is ordering
civilians shot to hell
And I think of my own country
How she treated me so bad
And how we finally found a way to live
The best we ever have
Compañeros out of Saigon
The last to leave that day
But we been twenty years a killin'
for the United S. of A.
inviata da Bartleby - 16/12/2010 - 14:11
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Album “The True Cross”
Ci sono tanti stereotipi del veterano della guerra in Vietnam: l’invalido fottuto, quello che non ha retto all’orrore ed è andato fuori di testa, il tossico e/o alcolista e/o barbone reietto dalla società, il traumatizzato divenuto un pazzo sanguinario che spara sulla folla dall’alto di qualche edificio oppure sequestra o stupra o uccide, quello che ha preso coscienza ed è diventato pacifista… In questa canzone David Rodriguez racconta invece di quei molti che, fattisi le ossa massacrando vietnamiti, continuarono poi a “servire la patria” massacrando o insegnando a massacrare altra gente nel “cortile di casa” USA, il centro e sud America. Infatti, finita nel 1975 la guerra nel sud est asiatico, per un reduce si aprivano straordinarie possibilità di impiego ben retribuito, sia nei quadri dell’esercito sia al di fuori di esso, come mercenario: Cile, Argentina, Nicaragua, Salvador, Grenada e poi Ecuador, Perù, Bolivia, Uruguay, Paraguay, Brasile e poi ancora Haiti, Panama e Colombia… C’è sempre stato un sacco di lavoro sporco da fare per i veterani di guerra, tanto che nell’ultima strofa di questa canzone Rodriguez fa dire al suo protgonista:
“Dei compañeros là a Saigon
Siamo stati gli ultimi ad andarcene quel giorno,
Ma poi abbiamo passato vent’anni ad uccidere
Per gli USA”