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Northern Heads: Roy Harper - I Hate The White Man (lyrics)

6.04.2015

Roy Harper - I Hate The White Man (lyrics)



Far across the ocean 
In the land of look and see 
There once was a time 
For you and me 

Where the winds blow sweetly 
And the easy seas flow still 
And where the barefoot dream of life 
Can laugh and cry its fill 

Where slot machine confusions 
And the plastic universe 
Are objects of amusement 
In the fiction of their curse 

And where the crazy whiteman 
And his teargas happiness 
Lies dead and long since buried 
By his own fantastic mess 

For I hate the whiteman 
And his plastic excuse 
For I hate the whiteman 
And the man who turned him loose... 

And the reins of coloured thunder 
Of the stallion of the dawn 
Ride the coalfire morning 
On the beach where all is born 

Where the emperor of meaning 
Is burning up his forts 
And sits to warm his toes around 
A fire made up of useless thoughts 

And when the children tempt him 
With the riddles of their trance 
He flings the flames of solstice 
Casting laughs into their dance 

And while a crazy whiteman 
In the desert of his bones 
Lies as bleached as the paradise 
He likes to think he owns 

And I hate the whiteman 
In his evergreen excuse 
Oh I hate the whiteman 
And the man who turned him loose... 

And far across the reaches 
Of the drifting yellow sands 
The living carpet wilderness 
Forever joins its hands 

With heaven hell's attainment 
In a surging crest of fire 
Where more than all is thrown upon 
The ever lasting pyre 

And through the countless canticles 
Of Jason's charcoal fleece 
Are sung the songs of nothing 
In the timeless masterpiece 

And there stood in the middle 
Guess who? 
It's the everlasting burst 
Built by god's very own whiteman 
As he tries to rule the dust 

And I hate the whiteman 
In his doctrinaire abuse 
Oh I hate the whiteman 
And the man who turned you all loose... 

And the bowels of his city 
Have been locked into a safe 
Where the spew stains on the sidewalks 
Are defenders of his faith 

While back inside his kitchen 
The bowler hatted, long haired saint 
Cleans with soap and water 
But it's really just white paint 

While his golden headed scandal sheets 
Present their daily bite 
To give their righteous news-bleeders 
Drugs to keep them white 

While outside in the whitewash 
Where the guns are always, always right 
A shooting star has summoned 
Its dark angel from his night 


And I hate the whiteman 
And his evergreen excuse 
Oh I hate the whiteman 
And the man who turned you all loose 
And the man who turned him loose...

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