Bruce *****burn - The Mines Of Mozambique Lyrics
There's a broad river windingthrough this African lowlandThe moon is held up orange and bigSee it raise its handAnd the last ferry's pulling outwith no place left to standfor the mines of MozambiqueThere's a wealth of amputationwaiting in the groundBut no one can rememberwhere they put it downIf you're the child that finds it thereYou will rise upon the soundof the mines of MozambiqueSome men rob the passersbyfor a bit of cash to spendSome men rob whole countries dryand still get called their friendAnd under the feeding frenzyThere's a wound that will not mendin the mines of Mozambique(Bridge)Night, like peace, is a state of suspension. Tomorrow the heat willrise and mist will hide the marshy fields, the mango and the cashewtrees, which only now they're clearing brush from under. Rusted husksof blown up trucks line the roadway north of town, like passingthrough a sculpture gallery. War is the artist, but he's sleeping now.And somebody will be peddling vials of penicillin stolen out of allthe medical kits sent to the countryside. And in the bare workshopthey'll be molding plastic into little prosthetic legs for thechildren of this artist and for those who farm the soil that receivedhis bitter seed.The all night stragglers stagger home*****s begin to crowAnd singing birds are starting uptelling what they knowAnd after awhile the sun will comeand we'll see what it will showof the mines of Mozambique
