Calm like a bomb – Rage against the machine

Sábado, noviembre 10, 2007

Pido disculpas por mi falta de originalidad, pero hoy quiero postear otra canción con dedicatoria, esta vez para el presidente de nuestro país hermano, Tabaré Vázquez, que ayer decidió gentilmente ordenar por fax dar permiso a la pastera Botnia para comenzar a funcionar, dejando a todo el mundo -tanto a los argentinos como a los mediadores españoles- absolutamente desconcertados.
También quiero recomendarles leer este análisis que hace Oscar Raúl Cardoso en su blog sobre la disputa y este artículo de la tribuna de doctrina donde se adelantan dos medidas de represalia que podría tomar el gobierno de Cristina Fernández de Kirchner contra Uruguay: bajar el rango de nuestro representante en ese país de embajador a encargado de negocios y, lo más interesante, controlar más severamente las transacciones financieras entre ciudadanos argentinos y bancos uruguayos. Yo siempre he considerado que Uruguay se destaca en cuatro actividades económicas: agricultura, ganadería, turismo y lavado de dinero (principalmente argentino).

Feel the funk blast
Feel the funk blast
Feel the funk blast
Feel the funk blast
Feel the funk blast
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, check it out, yo, yo, yo

I be walkin’ god like a dog
My narrative fearless
My word war returns to burn
Like Baldwin home from Paris
Like Steel from a furnace
I was born landless
This is tha native son
Born of Zapata’s guns
Stroll through tha shanties
And tha cities remains
Same bodies buried hungry
But with different last names
These vultures rob everything
Leave nothing but chains
Pick a point on tha globe
Yes tha pictures tha same
There’s a bank
There’s a church
A myth and a hearse
A mall and a loan
A child dead at birth
There’s a widow pig parrot
A rebel to tame
A whitehooded judge
A syringe and a vein
And tha riot be tha rhyme of tha unheard
what ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?

Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite
Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite

This ain’t subliminal
Feel tha critical mass approach horizon
Tha pulse of tha condemned
Sound off America’s demise
Tha anti-myth rhythm rock shocker
Yes I spit fire
Hope lies in tha smoldering rubble of empires
Yes back through tha shanties and tha cities remains
Tha same bodies buried hungry
But with different last names
These vultures rob everyone
Leave nothing but chains
Pick a point here at home
Yes tha picture’s tha same
There’s a field full of slaves
Some corn and some debt
There’s a ditch full of bodies
Tha check for tha rent
There’s a tap, tha phone, tha silence of stone
Tha numb black screen
That be feelin’ like home

And tha riot be tha rhyme of tha unheard
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?

Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite
Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite
Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite
Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite

Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite
Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite
Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite
Calm like a bomb
Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite
Calm Like a bomb

There’s a mass without roofs
There’s a prison to fill
There’s a country’s soul that reads post no bills
There’s a strike and a line of cops outside of tha mill
There’s a right to obey
And there’s a right to kill
There’s a mass without roofs
There’s a prison to fill
There’s a country’s soul that reads post no bills
There’s a strike and a line of cops outside of tha mill
There’s a right to obey
And there’s a right to kill

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