I could tell you stories like the government tells lies Oh, but no one listens any more In the rooms the women come and go Talking on the mobile phones And the television talks about the war When I was a baby there was laughter in my house And my daddy smoked domestic cigarettes Thursday nights on the radio live in concert Live from Cairo, mother of Egypt
Mama, mama Be with me With the music in your breast In your glittering evening dress And the white flag in your fist trembling
I could tell you stories like the past was dead and gone But I know nothing changes in this world Every day the muezzin calls Sun comes up and Baghdad falls Before the eyes of storytelling girls She was just a poor man's daughter Going down into the sultan's bed He was desert, she was water And he remembered every word she said
She said and I say Grandma, grandma Be with me In your tragic wedding gown With your long hair hanging down And the stories tumbling out Tumbling
I could tell you stories like the government tells lies Oh, but no one listens any more In the rooms the women come and go Talking on the mobile phones And the television talks about the war About the war And the television talks about the warTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
