The Selecter
The Selecter - Keeping The Trees Clean songtekst
Je score:
Sticks and stones may break my bones But names will never hurt me Negro, nigger, wog, junglebunny Laugh you coon don't you think that's funny Spade, jigaboo, sambo, darky For those who are poets, Just paddy-malarkey Picaninny, half-caste, burrhead and blacky But why stop there let's get seriously whacky Gosh there's a golly, a mangomuncher Rubber lips, a callaloo cruncher Quadroon, high-yella, octoroon and lily-skin This is the shape our culture's in I'm keeping the trees clean I'm keeping the trees clean I'm keeping the trees clean How does it feel to truly belong To know how you act is never wrong Always keeping expectations high Never blamed for each indiscretion Conscious of leaving negative impressions Analysing every move that you make In every minute from the time that you wake Repeating a sentence again and again As if you were given less of a brain Hassling for every crumb from the table From the time you climbed out of the cradle Breaking your back ‘cos you leant too far over To accommodate those rolling in clover Assimilating patterns of human behaviour Where everything's white, including the Saviour But hey, I'm keeping the trees clean I'm keeping the trees clean I'm keeping the trees clean I'm keeping the trees clean I'm keeping the trees clean I'm keeping the trees clean