It’s midnight at the oasis and nobodies here
The light from the night fires makes everything look scared
And a baby cries solo
And nobody hears it but me, god and fear
I wake to find dreaming is all that I got
Yesterday is over, it’s just a bullet-hole in the head
And there’s no hallelujah
The Baghdad café is dead
The poets all broken, their words told as lies
The savants and the storytellers quiet as they come
This is no revolution
They painted Sinbad on a bomb
The trees of Babylon are burning
And this world is turning away
From the Baghdad crusade
The weight of my genius is more than I can bear
I moved out of my mind, sanctions, bombs, books and tears
There’s blood in my eyes
Ten tons of war today
This once ancient city as delicate as prose
Had its books burned by infidels, piles of bodies by the side of roads
My epitaph unknown
There’ll be no going home
The hospitals all broken from the policies of the world
Are your prayers any stronger than the ones we say
My quarrelsome cry
No children were born today
I walk libertine back streets that no armoured cars can ride
The city of peace all broken and bled
Smells the souk rise
The Baghdad café is filled with the dead
The tortured and hunted and hopeless are freed
To go fight a war bring back home bountiful greed
They bomb us at night
For your money we bleed
The light from the night fires makes everything look scared
And a baby cries solo
And nobody hears it but me, god and fear
I wake to find dreaming is all that I got
Yesterday is over, it’s just a bullet-hole in the head
And there’s no hallelujah
The Baghdad café is dead
The poets all broken, their words told as lies
The savants and the storytellers quiet as they come
This is no revolution
They painted Sinbad on a bomb
The trees of Babylon are burning
And this world is turning away
From the Baghdad crusade
The weight of my genius is more than I can bear
I moved out of my mind, sanctions, bombs, books and tears
There’s blood in my eyes
Ten tons of war today
This once ancient city as delicate as prose
Had its books burned by infidels, piles of bodies by the side of roads
My epitaph unknown
There’ll be no going home
The hospitals all broken from the policies of the world
Are your prayers any stronger than the ones we say
My quarrelsome cry
No children were born today
I walk libertine back streets that no armoured cars can ride
The city of peace all broken and bled
Smells the souk rise
The Baghdad café is filled with the dead
The tortured and hunted and hopeless are freed
To go fight a war bring back home bountiful greed
They bomb us at night
For your money we bleed
inviata da daniela -k.d.- - 3/10/2007 - 20:28
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Da/From: "Ten War Songs"
Lyrics and music by Dean Omori
Testo e musica di Dean Omori
Why we lie
I am Dean Omori, Artist and father of two little boys. This whole thing is dedicated to the art of protest and why it is that we as people seem unable to raise adequate concerns to the reasons we are at war. How easily today we roll over, how easily we accept what is so obvioulsy wrong at the behest of those who control us and at the same time appear to have so little respect for our voice. How simply we accept what our political figures are forcing us into, resigned to the notion that a democracy runs largely on our leathargy and the superiority of the few. We as a nation are blooded in a war and its atrocities in the name of peace and god and beneath the intellectual radars of politicians hidden agendas. Yet I think it is precisely when we believe we as people are powerless to act that we have more power than we could ever imagine. The power of the people no longer reides in democracy but in our capacidy to think and judge situations for ourselves. And there let us act accordingly.
But the noise of these songs in my head at times, was so loud that I had little choice but to exorcise them in completing this thing. The entire album is written and performed by me and recorded on my Mac in our back room. So if you don't like it, well that'll be down to me. But listen to the beauty of TEN WAR SONGS, download them and share it with those of you stifiled without a revolution befitting the time in which we live.
Dean Omori
Art of protest
Hello world
This website is here for two reasons:
Firstly to promote the new album I have recently written and recorded and will be available from 1st October 2007 as a free download. TEN WAR SONGS is the sound of protest if you turn up our silence within us. It is neither religious nor political but it stands to one side with art and justice when our humanity is in question.
Secondly it is my voice in the art of protest. To make something beautiful and challenging and at the same time envoke a movement based on growth and not violence. And there to hopefully work at our collective consciences into standing up for what is right, never again to allow wars to wash over us ever so lightly. To ask why it is as people we seem to have lost the need for protest, for revolution. Where once the soul of our nation could be gauged by its youth, on campus, in streets; by their anger, their defiance and for their fight for what is just, in the face of what is so obviously wrong in the world. Where today our only concerns seem to be media fed on what it is we are all being told we believe in. The policies of this new world appear to be based on money and self-importance regardless the suffering and humiliation of others. Without protest and with it change, we have to accept what it is they are shovelling.
Dean Omori