Masters Of War

Bob Dylan
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OriginalITALIANO / ITALIAN [10] - Vanni Scopa

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

"O padroni della guerra", voi che fate i cannoni
Areoplani di morte, voi che fate le bombe
Dietro i muri nascosti, dietro le scrivanie
Giù la maschera, tanto vi vedo lo stesso

Voi che non costruite altro che per distruggere
Voi giocate col mondo come fosse un giocattolo
Voi donate fucili ma poi vi nascondete
Le pallottole volano, ma voi state in ufficio

Siete giuda moderni, voi mentite e ingannate
Ci volete convincere che si può vincere la guerra
Ma si vede attraverso i vostri occhi e il cervello
Voi trasparite così come l'acqua di fogna

Voi avete causato la peggiore paura
Paura di portare nuovi figli nel mondo
Dato che minacciate chi deve ancora venire
Voi non valete il sangue che vi scorre di dentro

Ma che cosa io so, non è questo il mio turno
Direte che sono giovane, che non so abbastanza
Ma c'è una cosa che so, anche se sono giovane:
Che persino un Cristo non vi perdonerebbe

Voglio chiedervi adesso, o padroni della guerra:
"Val così tanto il denaro, comprerete il perdono?"
Quando verrà la morte e chiederà il suo pedaggio
Con tutti i soldi che avete non comprerete la pace

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