"Dear sir, you know what I’m telling you? This is freedom.
I’m high, I play out of tune even if you don’t like it.
I can’t keep the rhythm, I’ve known for a while, it’s not news.
I don’t give a damn; I’m killing it thanks to my pim, pum, pam."
Bongos: this thing disturbs me and I feel like crap.
Almost as if I sit down and listen a little better.
Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’ve been deceived.
Maybe? Maybe a big fuck.
You suck, this is the truth.
Now I’m gonna smash the bongos to avenge Africa,
The one that cooked the explorer in a pot.
You dress like a rasta but that alone isn’t enough:
You might have no problems, but there's definitely something wrong with your rhythm.
Hey, you’re just blowing smoke up your ass!
Go catch some rats!
You can only sell your chocolate tomorrow!
"Here’s what happens in all cities:
I play the bongos, you smash them.
At this rate, where will it end?"
That’s why some think it’s more practical
To raze a forest deemed useless.
Stuff like this has never been seen in Africa,
Which may have plenty of problems but certainly not one with forests.
I’d like to play the bongos as if I were in Africa,
Under the dwarf oak near Porta Genova.
Sixteen thousand signatures, no food for Rocco Tanica
But then they razed the forest while people were away for the bridge.
They didn’t give a damn, now they’re putting up a building.
They’ve destroyed Gioia’s forest, those big sons of bitches.
"Here, this piece tackles a topic close to my heart: integration! Integration must be done in every respect without ifs, ands, or buts, as long as everyone stays in their own home!" :D
