Blue Smoke and Yellow Dust the glare of the morning Sun
That Cat was union made from the tracks down to the Blade
With a weldors torch an American smoking gun.
As the muscle and the brawn
of that Army moved along, with tanks and trucks
and guns and the yellow Cat.
The young men and the brave
with their orders for the day
but before them the stubborn little blond girl sat
The Big Cat drops its blade as it rages through the yard
Earth resists and wails as its skin is stripped down to bone
A garden turned to dust and a sidewalk turned to shards
For the Cat has come to tear down someone’s home.
A dirty little war so different than before, no army there to face them man to man
Drive the people from their land take the water from their wells
Bulldoze the houses and let the blood dry in the sand
Blessed are the peacemakers,
That strive against the gods of war,
that resist the ancient dirge of eye for eye.
Bless those who take no sword
but use the tools of mind and word
and those who mourn to see the children die.
So the Cat it sang its song
and another home is gone
and the tanks still roll along, still roll along.
In the midst of all the grief
there are those who stand for peace,
but little Rachel Corrie’s dead and gone.
Not so very far away, a long long time ago, on a little hill that overlooked the deep blue sea.
A good man spoke His heart, gave us something to believe,
but the Army came and nailed Him to a tree.
So Blessed are the meek and the pure in heart as well,
It’s a story that the wisdom seekers tell.
It was the wisdom of a song that Rachel Corrie sang along
And her eyes were clear as the waters of the Well.
Her eyes were clear as the water from the well.
Her eyes were clear.
Contributed by Dq82 - 2018/5/21 - 22:26
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.