Roger Waters beim Rock For Palestine in London

MikeTB sagt:

Roger Waters – The Bar

Liedtext – alle 10 Strophen (so weit ich es recherchieren oder selbst zusammen schreiben konnte) – ohne Übersetzung (mindestens dort wo 3 “xxx” stehen fehlt Text):

Does everybody in the bar feel pain?
Yeah, sure they do
Does everybody in the bar a little maimed?
Yeah, both me and you
We traded in the family farm for snake-oil
We bought into the carpetbagger’s lies
Now we’re hanging on this cross
With these feelings of loss
Just watching the liberty boat sail on by

If i cut you would you bleed for me
If i bind your wounds would you cry
And if I gave you my hand would you stand by
stand by me xxx till I dy
xxx to help me
xxx
and i looked into his eyes xxx no surprise
xxx

Does everybody in the bar feel shame?
Lord knows, I do
I guess we all feel pretty much the same
Kind of wore out by this crazy fucking zoo
The smell of napalm, with cornflakes
The chafe of killing everything that breathes
(Imposing sanctions)  on the lady down the street
‘Til she takes the hint, and packs her bags, and leaves

Come on in here, sister, and sit a spell
You are most welcome in the bar
We may seem few, but we are many
Have you been traveling far?
The girl who brought you in here is Lakota
From Standing Rock, where they made their stand
So from Fort Yates, North Dakota
Here’s a message for the man
Would you kindly get the fuck off our land?

Hey bar man i have a question
xxx one of many victims tell me why
A xxx fucking land lord has been choosen
to decide xxx she live and xxx she dy
Sweetheart there’s a reason xxx
I know xxx putting on my dancing shoes
xxx we can turn this ship around
Together we can write tomorrows notes

You are my sad eyed lady
Come lay across my big brass bed
Maybe it is we who have been chosen, you and me
To point out – this don’t make no fuckin’ sense
How many cannonballs must fly, Bob?
How long and winding is the road?
How many children xxx on how many mother’s sleeves?
Saying, look ma, the man ain’t got no fucking clothes

You can help them bild a bomb xxx
xxx in xxx
some crazy mutherfuckers xxx to drop in
a bus load of kids going to school
you can up your hand and deny
xxx choises in your head
just an inocent xxx just doing your job
xxx those little xxx kids were still be dead

When I’m drinking my coffee in the morning
xxx
xxx feeling bad that I greeve in a foreign land
xxx being here
So on monday when you walk into xxx
or on Friday when you picking up your
xxx on xxx like a xxx
xxx boy can put xxx

Before I was born my brother used to sit
On my daddy’s lap when he was home on leave
Daddy’d smoke a cigarette
And sometimes as a jest
He’d blow smoke-rings up my big brother’s sleeve
“More fire daddy,” my big brother would shout
At least that’s how the story has survived
I was mercifully spared
The feeling  memories that they shared
‘Cause I was only five months old when Daddy died

Gonna call up a friend in Australia
And order in some bush tucker snacks
And sit here with you to the didgeridoo
And listen while you xxx me all the maps
Is that a foghorn in the distance
Are we heading for the rocks
Come sit here by the fireside and hold me in your arms
And tell me, how was life before the cops