Lyrics and translation Casa del Vento - Good Morning Bagdad (Album version)

Good Morning Bagdad (Album version)

America ricordi le vite dissanguate di My Lai
Bambini senza volto tenuti per i piedi dai tuoi eroi
Riempiti di eroina, bruciavano nei campi le persone
Che tu consideravi soltanto musi gialli da stanare.

America ricordi quel tuo scappare in fretta da Saigon
E il napalm che tiravi con gli elicotteri sui contadini
Di fronte a un mondo che per te vuol dire solo terra da spianare
Babele di culture che stai uccidendo e che non sai capire.

Ti regalano la vita
Tu continui a dire al mondo
Che la guerra è finita.

Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...

America ricordi Belgrado e i treni esplosi per errore
E la democrazia portata a cannonate anche a Kabul
E delle libertà, di tutte le tue armi intelligenti
Sui corpi dei bambini tra i fuochi delle notti di Baghdad.

America ricordi la mano del carnefice a Santiago
E il fiato moribondo dei desaparecidos argentini
Le foto da trofeo sui buchi sulla pelle di Guevara
E lui che resta bello perché Guevara non può mai morire.

Ti regalano la vita
Tu continui a dire al mondo
Che la guerra è finita.

Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...

America ricordi l'orrore all'improvviso di un mattino
E gli sguardi impauriti nell'aria impolverata di New York
Ed ora che han sepolto i tuoi innocenti sotto metri di terrore
Ancora non capisci che cosa veramente voglia dire.

Ti regalano la vita
Tu continui a dire al mondo
Che la guerra è finita.

Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning Baghdad, good morning Baghdad, yè-yè...

Peccato America
Perché non hai capito neanche adesso
E allora fottiti America
Per le tue guerre umanitarie, le tue vendette corporali,
Il tuo Dow Jones che gioca all'altalena,
Il Ku Klux Klan, gli hamburger, le pistole in ogni casa,
Le rappresaglie, i marines, le bombe sui civili
E l'inno cantato con la mano sul cuore,
Quando nemmeno sai, il cuore, da che parte sta...

Good Morning Bagdad (Album version)

America, remember the bloodless lives of My Lai,
Faceless children held by the feet by your heroes.
Filled with heroin, they burned people in the fields
That you considered only yellow faces to be routed out.

America, remember how you fled from Saigon,
And your napalm dropped by helicopters on peasants
Before a world that meant only land to be leveled
A Babel of cultures that you butcher and fail to understand.

They give you life,
You continue to tell the world
That the war is over.

Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...

America, remember Belgrade and the trains that exploded in error,
And democracy brought on cannons to Kabul,
And of all your freedoms, your smart weapons
On the bodies of children in the fires of Baghdad's nights.

America, remember the executioner's hand in Santiago
And the dying breath of the Argentinian desaparecidos
The trophy photos of the bullet holes in Guevara's skin
And he who remains beautiful because Guevara can never die.

They give you life,
You continue to tell the world
That the war is over.

Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...

America, remember the sudden horror of a morning
And the frightened eyes in the dust-filled air of New York.
And now that they have buried your innocent under meters of terror
You still don't understand what it really means.

They give you life,
You continue to tell the world
That the war is over.

Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...
Good morning, Baghdad, good morning, Baghdad, yè-yè...

Pity, America,
Because you haven't understood even now
And so screw you, America
For your humanitarian wars, your corporate vendettas,
Your Dow Jones swinging like a child on a swing,
The Ku Klux Klan, the hamburgers, the guns in every home,
The reprisals, the marines, the bombs on civilians
And the anthem sung with your hand on your heart,
When you don't even know, my dear, which side your heart is on...