Your bulldozers rolling through my part of town
The iron ball swings and knocks it all down
You knocked down my hock shop and you knocked down my bars
And you black-topped it over to park all your cars
Old Maxie the tailor is closing his doors
There's nothing left to sell in the secondhand stores
You knocked down my pawn shop and the big Harbor Lights
And the old Chinese cafe that was open all night
And where will I go?
And where will I stay?
You knocked down the skid roads and hauled it away
I'll flag a fast rattler and I'll ride it on down, boys,
They're running the bums out of town
You ran out the hookers who worked on the street
And built a big club where the playboys can meet
My bookie joint closed when your cops made a raid
But you built a new hall for the stock market trade
These little store keepers they don't stand a chance
With the big uptown bankers calling the dance
With their suit-and-tie restaurants all owned by Greeks
And the counterfeit hippies and their plastic boutiques
And where will I go?
And where will I stay?
You knocked down the skid roads and hauled it away
I'll flag a fast rattler and I'll ride it on down, boys,
They're running the bums out of town
Now I'm finding out now there's just one kind of war
The one going on between the rich and the poor
And I don't know a lot about what you call class
But the upper and middle can all kiss my ass
The iron ball swings and knocks it all down
You knocked down my hock shop and you knocked down my bars
And you black-topped it over to park all your cars
Old Maxie the tailor is closing his doors
There's nothing left to sell in the secondhand stores
You knocked down my pawn shop and the big Harbor Lights
And the old Chinese cafe that was open all night
And where will I go?
And where will I stay?
You knocked down the skid roads and hauled it away
I'll flag a fast rattler and I'll ride it on down, boys,
They're running the bums out of town
You ran out the hookers who worked on the street
And built a big club where the playboys can meet
My bookie joint closed when your cops made a raid
But you built a new hall for the stock market trade
These little store keepers they don't stand a chance
With the big uptown bankers calling the dance
With their suit-and-tie restaurants all owned by Greeks
And the counterfeit hippies and their plastic boutiques
And where will I go?
And where will I stay?
You knocked down the skid roads and hauled it away
I'll flag a fast rattler and I'll ride it on down, boys,
They're running the bums out of town
Now I'm finding out now there's just one kind of war
The one going on between the rich and the poor
And I don't know a lot about what you call class
But the upper and middle can all kiss my ass
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2014/5/29 - 12:09
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Parole e musica di Utah Phillips.
Nel songbook “Starlight On The Rails and Others Songs – The Golden Voice of the Great Southwest”, raccolta di canzoni scritte da Bruce ‘Utah’ Phillips tra anni 60 e primi 70.
Poi anche in dischi successivi come “El Capitan” del 1975.
Una canzone sulla trasformazione di Larimer Street, un tempo la “skid row” di Denver, Colorado, la strada più vecchia della città.
Piccoli negozi, barucci, bordelli e camere a buon mercato dove i diseredati potevano trovare un minimo di conforto furono spazzati via alla fine dei 60 per fare spazio al “progresso”, alle sedi di grosse compagnie, della camera di commercio, a ristoranti di lusso e boutiques… E i poveracci vennero cacciati e relegati ai margini della città… “Così ho capito”, dice Utah Phillips, “che c’è un solo genere di guerra, quella tra i ricchi e i poveri. Non so molto di classi sociali, ma so che quella alta e quella media possono anche baciarmi il culo…”