Maglodi ut

 I'm in the land where they walk down straight

The dogs are the gods behind the garden gate

And I'm in a condo with a bottle full of hate

The dogs in the farm yard

They double up late

Calling us angels, calling

Pigeons on the lamposts

Carex in the garden

Tumble down Hungarian

buildings that stand on

Their last legs

Well I went to walk where

the dead don't talk

And the living all are sighing

And the breeze like chalk

Cut in circles and forks

Around the ones who were crying

They said you're a marked man

We have you in our sights

I said "I am what I am, now don't

forget the plan-

I won't go down without a fight"

But then the tombstones baulked

Under their ivy leaf storks

At all their words that were dying

It's a living language, a honey tongue

And the bears are off fighting with the dragons

In the grit on the dirt road lying

with butterfly wings and dead acacia blossoms

 

I see the Roma women calling to their husbands

Convicts inside the prison

And they call back darling what I lack

Is the eyes for you to be seeing

"Your children are here, come on shout to your daddy

Don't you know that he is your Father

And you are his sons

Though many horizons

Have set while he's been in prison

The children are well, another says with a yell

We love you the mother prompts the little boy 

To holla'

He he cries back, I love ya, though the lack

Of seeing is like I'm dying

In this living hell, where everyday gels into

The next and the next one

And it's all just a rap

I've been caught in the trap

Of being a young gypsy man caught in the system

It's the same as well for those who ring the bell

The prison yard bell it is chiming

And their crawling along the floors

Their rapping at the doors

And those prison walls they are climbing

But the bell still tolls for one and all

The bells of freedom are a ringing

One day the siren calls, will not herald what befalls

Every young gypsy man in the system 

They come out again, the family, this time

Another young boy is with them, he is getting

bored and restless sitting on the grass

Scuffing his feet in the gravel

Sending up a shower of angry stones

To heaven

On my way back after they are gone

I see they have scrawled with pink and blue chalk

We love you Apa (father) on the side walk

While I hardly dare look or listen, but I must

To the sounds the men make in the prison

As the daylight dims on a hot Sunday evening

And they face another night in the cell

Without his family, whose graffiti on the pavement

Is the inverse of his own howling sentiments

To the government

This is justice, this is the consequence

For the criminal all life is denied

Outside visiting times, if there are any,

And the high prison wall that keeps him