Detripay (Gutted)
Click, clack; click, clack… uneven gait
clip, clop; clip, clop… we’re upside down
Feeling our way through dark ages
we’re climbing hills on wooden stilts.
We’re inside out, awkward, backward
mismatched nightmares scarfed with despair
Newborns, old souls, cribs turned to graves
our hope seem dead, this game is rigged.
A drop of booze, we’re all joking
while this nation is decaying
Sadly, madness becomes the norm
when pain parades in Mardi Gras.
It’s abnormal, but, new normal
every mask goes, it’s carnival
Rape, violence, abuse and sorrow
staining the dream of tomorrow.
Click, clack; click, clack… a shambling gait
clip, clop; clip, clop… we’re upside down
Feeling our way through dark ages
we’re climbing hills on wooden stilts.
Twelve year old girls walking the streets
their childhoods scarred by wicked deals
Like flower’s bud, withered and crushed
hustling, shuffling through trash filled life.
Their bodies sketched on moonlit roads
broken and torn, they will not bloom
Selling pleasure, catching disease
and giving birth on front porches.
Poets, historians jot this down
lest we forget this black market
Innocence sold on shameful stalls
barrettes, ribbons or ragged dolls.
Look at the mess in our Country
dear friends, my friends, it’s not normal
Look at the issues in our homeland
dear friends, my friends, it’s not normal.
Look at the mess in our native land
dear friends, my friends, it’s not normal
Look at the issues in my backyard
told you my friends, it’s not normal.
It’s not normal (eight times)
But, the problems are here
They’re here (three times)
Those problems tie us down
Those problems are really a shame
We are crippled from the inside.
Lyrics: Jean Winer PASCAL
Music and lyrics: Jean Bélony MURAT (BélO)
Translation into English: Jean Winer PASCAL and Gilberte PASCAL
