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Créditos
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Prokop Boutan
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Prokop Boutan
Songwriter
Letras
Something blew up in the old port
There's a scar in the sky
It's been threatening for a while
But they rather ignored
What are the odds? they asked
Now they watch from their windowless castles
Nothing on the ground
Beirut's in the air
A city levitating
4th of August 2020
Charif holds some fruits in his hands
The ground starts fading beneath him
He let some fruits fall from the bowl
Next thing he knows, there are 208 people
Dead in the streets of Beirut
6 000 injured too
Some of them will never recover fully
A city is screaming
People went out in the streets before
They wanted to change things around
Asked for a new regime, they
Asked for justice
A change from this corrupted society
The Public Railway office keeps on operating in a
Country with no train
It's been thirty years now
Since the last train arrive
And stopped whistling
See the public gardener in his watering truck
Watering mounds where flowers don't grow
That's the work after all
You need to work
To get paid
Cement keeps on flowing on the shore
Coming from illegal quarries
Made for legal billionaires
Privatizers of beaches
Where no one can go
A judge's working on the explosion
Trusted by many, feared by few
Militias took their guns
On the road to suicide
4 gunshots were heard, people fell down
Bring back the smell of civil war
In a country that can't stop suffering
Beirut's in the air
Before the next explosion
People went out in the streets before
They wanted to change things around
Asked for a new regime, they
Asked for justice
A change from this corrupted society
The Public Railway office keeps on operating in a
Country with no train
It's been thirty years now
Since the last train arrive
And stopped whistling
Lokman Slim was a bit too critical
He was found dead in his car
One bullet in the head, another one in the back
Couldn't face someone who wrote books
Joe Bejjani died too
He was a photographer with an eye on the port of Beirut
A bit too curious
There wasn't anything to see
For a camera now broken
Put some flowers on their grave
To make the blood bloom
Words will make new authors
Turn cemeteries into portals of Freedom
Put some flowers on their grave
And some Fairuz on
Listen to Omar Khorshid
Beirut's in the air
Bring it back on the floor
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