, clink, clink, clink" The money on the bus goes "Clink, clink, clink" All through the town. (Pretend to put money in cash box on bus) The baby on the bus
Traduction: Paroles Enfants. Le Chant de bus.
and crimed on the bus heading straight to the Island He was only 13, but tried us in the dope and as high as the coast Cause ain't no more children in
December 1, 1955, our freedom movement came alive. And because of Sister Rosa you know, we don't ride on the back of the bus no more. Sister Rosa Parks
switch it like a camilion, and then decided it back and find a g-stro candidate, to swimming it commin' swallow my children, (aaa-ha ha ha) go'head and sing my song
This song is about a nigga always trying to keep you down You know you got to touch that We made something from nothing and vowed to never tear it apart
Dirt covered earth lays beneath my rib cage Givin' birth to overgrowth invadin' on to path ways Burnt out trees cover streets where children once played
December 1, 1955 Our freedom movement came alive And because of Sister Rosa you know We don?t ride on the back of the bus no more Sister Rosa she was
We take the car to go and meet the bus When our grandchildren come to visit us You say you should have been a ballerina, babe There are songs I should
The elderly association from Klazienaratjetoe(*1) They got a note, they were invited to come on TV With a full bus to the 'Vakantieman'(*2) They made
believe in the spell, they're on the bus When we're dead and gone When we get where we belong When we've sung the final song Get the first bus to Babylon
and out the door by 9 O'clock The sun is shining up and down the block There's children in the corner waiting for a bus That will take them to school
outside I'm battered Picket fence shattered I saw my self as bastard tagalong, harassed and spat upon By the children of slave masters who passed it on The saddest songs
a popstar. I'm going to sing those songs without offending the sensors, See my dinosaur vitamins in pez dispensers. I'll be writing all of my own songs
pearl knit sweater and a gasoline rag He's got a fistful of stars and an old dog tag Get to Parchman Farm by a number 9 bus And send the children to
mine 'Cause it's about time, to get serious A mysterious time, blind melons It ain't no telling, if the willing Will stop chillin', then help the children
my people get inside the bus (women - shuffering and shmiling) everyday its the circle (women - shuffering and shmiling) everyday my people get inside the bus
Missing Persons. JOE Well, they always know where to find me. (Before SHE can develop this, the BOYS and GIRLS around the piano launch into their song
