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Night Of Dying Moon

Mick Terry
Lingua: Inglese


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[2006]
(9 year-old girl in Darfur, Sudan)
1: You taste dust. You feel dust on your eyes.
You wear dust on your skin like skin of goat.
You feel sun. You feel mouth very dry.
You feel sun even night in back of throat.
We barely living. Each night children die.
Each day bring more reason not to live.

CHORUS:
My people, we hungry. We have nothing of wealth.
And still they take what few things what we own.
My people, we hurting. What make them want us dead?
What make them bring- Night of Dying Moon.

2: They kill Mum. They drag her by her feet.
They do mean things to her and Bigger Sis.
Me too young or they do same to me.
I hide my brother outside under trees.
They burn our home down. Father dead inside.
Each day bring more reason not to live.

CHORUS:
My people, we hungry. We have nothing of wealth.
And still they take what few things what we own.
My people, we hurting. What make them want us dead?
What make them bring- Night of Dying Moon.

BRIDGE:
Janjaweed militia attack us anytime.
Protection from their swords never seen.
Janjaweed militia want all my people die.
Look like they get their killing dream.

3: You taste death. You feel death in your life.
You wear death without need like heavy coat.
Is this life? Is this how to survive?
With no one help us, no one give us hope?
"Never again-!" someone somewhere cry.
Each day all this killing still go on.

CHORUS:
My people, we hungry. We have nothing of wealth.
And still they take what few things what we own.
My people, we hurting. What make them want us dead?
What make them bring- Night of Dying Moon.

inviata da daniela -k.d.- - 17/9/2007 - 19:00



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