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I sat on the wall along the old Malecon
Thinking how life was worth nothing at all
A woman, a cigar, a small glass of rum
Kept you happy a short while and then it was gone
And we’re all biding our time
In the crisis, the crisis that’s come,
Waiting in dirty Havana
Waiting till the crisis is gone
I sit by the river, watching the bombs,
Thinking soon there’ll be nothing of old Babylon
No women or children, no laughter or fun
Two men on a mission, a tank & a gun
And we’re all wasting our time
Wasting, waiting so long,
Waiting in dirty Baghdad
Waiting in dirty Babylon
The wind is still whistling outside my front door
A sandstorm is coming this time for sure
The sky still is blue, there’s nothing to do,
But to dream of a future where life will endure
And we’re all wasting our time
Wasting, waiting so long,
Waiting on the dirty savannah
Waiting till the crisis is gone
He looked up and saw, the wide country round
Concourse in arms and threatening war
Men longing for truth and told only lies
And midgets not giants with foolish emprise
And we’re all wasting our time
Wasting, waiting so long,
Waiting in dirty Havana
Waiting in dirty Washington
"He looked, and saw wide territory spread
Before him - towns, and rural works between,
Cities of men with lofty gates and towers,
Concourse in arms, fierce faces threatening war,
Giants of mighty bone and bold emprise.”
John Milton, Paradise Lost: Eleventh Book, 1667. |
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