Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Oscar Jerome
Oscar Jerome
Guitare
Beni Giles
Beni Giles
Guitare basse
Hadiru Mahdi
Hadiru Mahdi
Chant
Theo Erskine
Theo Erskine
Saxophone
Jack Polley
Jack Polley
Guitare basse
Ayobami Salawu
Ayobami Salawu
Batterie
Crispin Spry
Crispin Spry
Percussion
Richie Seivwright
Richie Seivwright
Trombone
Sheila Maurice-Grey
Sheila Maurice-Grey
Trompette
Crispin Luke Robinson
Crispin Luke Robinson
Percussion
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Brother Portrait
Brother Portrait
Composition
Oscar Jerome Laurence
Oscar Jerome Laurence
Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Oscar Jerome
Oscar Jerome
Production
Beni Giles
Beni Giles
Production
Dick Beetham
Dick Beetham
Ingénierie de mastérisation
Robert Wilks
Robert Wilks
Ingénierie de prise de son

Paroles

In search of streets of gold
The road may lead to Feneos
Where the river begins
But the journey doesn't end, no
Winding through a valley
You may reach a sulphurous swamp
Place a coin in the mouth of your loved one
So they can be ferried across
 
And shield their eyes to the damned that eternally choke
These muddy waters replaced the dirty words that they spoke
You may ask yourself, "How did I end up around these ways?"
And the wind replies, "My friend, you were at the right time in the wrong place"
 
(Your saint only cares for money)
(Don't you touch his sense of pride)
 
Your saint only cares for money
Your saint only cares for money
Don't you touch his sense of pride
Your saint only cares for money
Your saint only cares for money, ah
Don't you touch his sense of pride
Oh, Paris' arrow is hot on your heels
A scholar caught in the rain
Unnoticed, unnamed
Your saint only cares for money
Don't you touch his sense of pride
 
Shoulder to shoulder, most faces face back
The only warm air was breath through a whispered prayer
Left in the name of God, of family, of land
Arrive and cry, "Thanks" into trembling hands
"How could I survive?", ain't even a question of life
My passage had no ticket, just a price
The debt makes my cheek run rivers, turns sleep to a threat
I dream faces I will never touch again
 
Each body across water, a spirit's still tethered to a place
That meant purpose was being
That sang sweet, I am still tethered, now straining my face
Pulled into shapes of mourning
Now home is a burial ground
Testing faith and grace, all fearful, appalling
Same time, panic and dash, same time still chase
All missed calls and calling
 
A right time never, this time forever
Bones bawling out, "Will you bury us here, really?"
Heart still burning, black core, red fire
All for love
How come they scared? Can't see
The purpose, the power, my sacrifice, the beauty in me
Why they grimace and spit, play fickle with life?
Turn hope into a hell for me
 
Your saint only cares for money
Your saint only cares for money
Don't you touch his sense of pride
Your saint only cares for money
Your saint only cares for money, yeah
Don't you touch his sense of pride
Oh, Paris' arrow is hot on your heels
A scholar caught in the rain
Unnoticed, unnamed
Your saint only cares for money
Don't you touch his sense of pride
Don't you touch his sense of pride, yeah
Written by: Brother Portrait, Oscar Jerome Laurence
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