Black Boys On Mopeds
Eu estava fazendo esteira ouvindo o iPod quando tocou uma música da Sinéad O’Connor, Black Boys On Mopeds e ela cantava assim:
“…These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave…”
Isso me pegou fundo porque eu nunca me senti tão calada.
Porque, a não ser que você fale as coisas certas, você está cavando sua sepultura.
Tudo que se fala é escrutinado e julgado e você é aprovado ou reprovado e carimbado para todo o sempre com algum adjetivo.
E se eu falar que eu não dei a mínima para o comercial do Doritos? Que eu não achei nada demais? Que já vi melhores mas não me chamou a atenção em absoluto?
Para vocês, Sinead O’Connor:
Black Boys On Mopeds (Sinead O’Connor)
Margareth Thatcher on TV
Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing
It seems strange that she should be offended
The same orders are given by her
I’ve said this before now
You said I was childish and you’ll say it now
“Remember what I told you
If they hated me they will hate you”
England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It’s the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that’s why I’m leaving
I don’t want him to be aware that there’s
Any such thing as grieving
Young mother down at Smithfield
5 am, looking for food for her kids
In her arms she holds three cold babies
And the first word that they learned was “please”
These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave
“Remember what I told you
If you were of the world they would love you”
England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It’s the home of police who kill blacks boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that’s why I’m leaving
I don’t want him to be aware that there’s
Any such thing as grieving.