Song picture
El camino del diablo
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acoustic folk social commentary political satire western massachusetts oil coal climate change fracking incineration music for social change nuclear energy
Folk singer, social commentary, satire, people's stories, children's music
Hi Folks, The Bard Insurgent here. My comrade D.O. (the Poet Roofer) and I got that handle (The Bard Insurgents) from traveling town to town performing songs and poetry about people's lives. I've been performing since I was 3 years old, cutting my vocal chords on liturgical and classical music. I was a concert soloist as a child, when I wasn't herding cows, throwing hay and shoveling manure. During the Civil Rights movement and the Vietnam war, I began writing songs about social change. I left the country in 1970 and my dozen years in other countries, mostly in Africa & South America, have provided a global perspective to my music. My travels helped me realize that people all around the world are essentially the same in their basic life needs and their desires to live peacefully in their communities. These experiences have informed my commitment to working for international understanding as I organize at home. A powerful way to educate and inspire is with music. I tell people's stories, do social commentary with a touch of satire that I hope you enjoy and share with your friends, as well as sing together in the streets and in your living rooms. I also have children's music written for the children in my life with Jacob and Kayla as primary muses. Looking forward to seeing you on the road, Tom
Song Info
Charts
Peak #161
Peak in subgenre #22
Author
Tom Neilson/Marlene Palmer
Rights
Tom Neilson
Uploaded
December 21, 2012
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.2 MB 128 kbps 4:35
Lyrics
Ghostly prints in the blistered sand White sun scorches the empty land Norte de la frontera de Mejico. Blankets of sand and sun bleached bones Wind blown graves with no headstones Es el camino del diablo. We come searching the new El Dorado Leaving behind all we have known Straight into the hell of the killing fields North of the border of Mexico. Sidewinders, scorpions, y la Migra 80 miles north de la Baha. La Muerte waits, in the killing fields Screaming a whisper of Agua. Dame agua is our thirsty sigh. Dame agua is the desert cry We are coyote’s load On the devil’s road. A plastic jug holds muddy water Marking the way of the devil’s slaughter A backpack, a sandal, his legacy North of the border of Mexico If we slip through the gate of the gold North tower Gringos are paying by the hour We’ve won a share in the land of the free, But the devil still owns the power. Dame agua is our thirsty sigh. Dame agua is the desert cry We are coyote’s load On the devil’s road
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