a short site about The Divine Comedy

French version


Original version (5:47)

They haven’t departed, they haven’t gone home.
The trials haven’t started, no evidence shown.
They don’t get no visits, they don’t get no calls,
And nobody tells them nothing at all.

The headphones and the blindfolds, the days and the weeks,
The overalls of orange, the manacled feet.
A Kafka-esque nightmare, a legal black hole,
A corner of Cuba named Guantanamo.

The warmongers tell us they gave up their rights
When they attacked us and our way of life.
Oh, but our way of life depends on the law,
On liberty and freedom and justice for all.

Well, they talk about justice in the U.S. of A.
It’s the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Yeah, but outside of America anything goes
From Bagram to Abu Ghraib to Guantanamo.

In seventies Ulster the government thought
If they locked up the suspects the terror would stop.
But all that internment actually did
Was provide the Provos with more angry kids.

Oh but sometimes I wonder if our leaders really care?
They rely on these demons to keep people scared.
And unwilling to question the fate of those poor souls
Who lie rotting in the cages of Guantanamo.

Try them all, let them go
Try them all, let them go
Try them all, let them go
Try them all, let them go

Try them all, let them go, Try them all, let them go
You’ve got to try them all, let them go! Try them all, let them go