We say we're not like them A generation ago We came on the same ships we were hidden below We came seeking protection Away from the strife Away from the struggles and the hardships of life I'm not an incomer My parents were ghosts Sir I was born here So where would I go? There's ghosts on the motorway The world is on fire There's ghosts on the sandflats as the water gets higher and higher There's ghosts in the brothels Behind thick stony walls There's ghosts and their children in prison food halls I'm not an incomer My parents were ghosts Sir I was born here So where would I go?
Absolute perfection. Such a gentle touch on accordion, beautiful timbre in Kris' voice, haunting violin playing. Heartbreaking atmosphere. Repeat play...
RIP Clem, sorry you couldn't find peace on this earth. I'll have a beer with you and laugh at your crazy hats in the next one. Keep a place for me mate.
And here in the UK outside number 10 Downing Street and outside the home of our deplorable Home Secretary Suella Braverman. Herself of immigrant parents!
You're right, we should only have one kind of art and it should consist purely of works designed to further one groups political ends - that's definitely the kind of society I can get excited about being part of.
