HEGOKO LAUTADAREN ERTZETIK: LYRICS

IN LIMBO  (LINBOAN)

There, in idiots’ land,/ right there, at the fools’ committee,/ everyone is openmouthed/ saliva dripping from their lips./ Everyone stares, fascinated, at a fixed point,/ the fools and the innocents,/ the stupid and the rest. Oh, how nice to be/ up there, in a cotton sky/ wrapped in white light,/ in the air to the sound of bells./ chiming in their ears,/ eyes twinkling/ and hearts beating,/ in limbo. Don’t believe it, it’s not so difficult,/ on the other side of the clouds,/ gratis and free,/don’t miss it again./ There’s where I find my rest and solace,/ sitting on a cloud,/ shouting: “I’m a fool”,/ in limbo.

LISTEN TO HER  (EGIOZU KASU)

When life starts, in childhood, you can’t be free./ As we get wiser, this will be the answer to our wishes:/ Baby, listen to your mother;/ sweety, listen to your father./ As soon as we leave our homes we feel more free;/ these words keep coming up from the lips of all those around us;/ Girl, listen to your teacher;/ eh, boy, listen to your mates./ When we reach adulthood, it’s said that work liberates us;/ facing commitments, this is the order we listen to:/ Employee, listen to your employer;/ servant, listen to the customer./ Before life ends, retired and unemployed,/ instead of freedom, this is everybody’s recommendation:/ Granma, listen to your daughter;/ oldie, listen to your carer.

AT WAR  (GUDUKA)

Black & white,/ turks and christians,/ the fight ritual,/ just like pastorals*./ Long life to our band, and also yours! Territories are marked,/ weapons distributed,/ uniform colours/ are the reason to fight./ They won’t give in until the enemy surrenders. Agramont & Beaumont, / Napoleón & Wellington, / Godzilla & King-Kong, / Sadam Hussein & Clinton, lethal enemies, remain strong in their positions.

*Pastoral: Refers to a traditional theater originary from Zuberoa, in which all the characters are split between two opposite bands, “the good ones” and “the evil ones”.

IT’S ALRIGHT HERE  (BERTAN GOXO)

Long ago, when all living creatures could talk, / some sheep would return to the mountain without a bite./ When the shepherd asked why, this was their answer:/ “When we turn towards the grass, / the grass says: “over there it’s better”. As sheep are quite dumb, the shepherd advised them:/ “when you are told that elsewhere is better, you must answer “it’s alright here” and then start eating”./ Since then, when sheep bleat, they are telling the grass: “it’s alright here”.

I DON’T WANT TO KNOW  (EZ DUT JAKIN NAHI)

I don’t want to know what you’re up to these days;/ I don’t understand why you’re against me,/ because when we met/ we were friends./ Everything twisted after a while,/ we started to argue. I don’t want to know where you hang around these days;/ don’t want to bump into you anywhere;/ wouldn’t know where to look or hide,/ if we met by chance./ If you criticize me,/ my opinion is like yours. We haven’t known how to resolve our matter,/ each of us has kept his position during this hidden dispute;/ you, much younger, should be more extrovert;/ me, much older, should be more understanding;/ because you are younger,/ because I am older.

BY THE FOOT OF EZKABA MOUNTAIN  (EZKABAPEAN)

During the war there existed a terrible prision at the top of Ezkaba./ Later, when I was a boy, there were just a few reserve soldiers./ Many new homes and districts were built by the foot of Ezkaba,/ into little towns by the foot of Ezkaba. By the foot of Ezkaba, pain and joy in my heart/ on one side the madhouse/ on the other, instead, the train station: / in this way, those who didn’t surrender to work/ would easily be expelled from the town/ or locked in a cell./ By the foot of Ezkaba… They said that the barracks/ had to be removed from the city: / they left them by the foot of Ezkaba./ And now, the new prison/ Can you guess where will it be? / By the foot of Ezkaba…

WHO IS ON THE OTHER END?  (NOR DA BESTE ALDEAN?)

Who is on the other end? ,/ what is your name? / Speak clearly, ‘cause I can’t understand what you’re saying./ Are you basque? / What language do you speak?/ If you don’t talk properly, I’ll cut you off. Other end of the line,/ unintelligible whispers;/ this end,/ suspicions and fears. You, who are you? / friend or enemy?/ local, national or regional police?/ Are you kidding,/ or are you making propaganda?/ My number, how did you get it? Who gave it to you? Other end of the line,/ unintelligible whisper;/ this end,/ suspicions and fears.

THE SOUTHSIDES (IN DYLAN IMITATIONE)  (HEGOAK)

Many have died without knowing the south./ In the northern territories, earth is black and fertile,/ and their inhabitants’ dreams smell of wet beech./ A dark force reaches them from the deep forest,/ an endless scream from the valley of the sky,/ an old solace from the southern plains’ threshold. They will never be able to forget the first visitor./ His clothes the colour of the firey plain/ and stuck to his feet he brought spice seeds;/ he had words of twisted sounds/ when asking or answering,/ an old solace from the southern plains’ threshold. Many, many will die without seeing the south./ Beyond there’s something like fever and dream;/ beyond there’s something like fire and thick dust./ But they won’t fool the watchful eye./ because every north has it’s south,/ an old solace from the northern forest threshold.

THERE’S A LIGHT TURNED ON INSIDE ME  (ARGIA PIZTUTA GOGOAN)

Yesterday afternoon I wasn’t like I’m today/ in these few hours everything changed completely/ When I found myself awake in the middle of the dream/ a giant finger pointed directly at me/ and a light turned on inside me. Renewed after the call/ What joy to get up! / All my previous doubts became real,/ hesitations gave way to a perfect system,/ with a light turned on inside me. Without guilt or regrets/ from now on;/ a few friends, a lot of enemies/ bugger off to everyone who doesn’t agree with my ideas! Tomorrow morning you won’t be the same as today, / if a giant finger points directly at you, a light turns on inside you.

THERE’S NO ROCK AND ROLL IN IRUÑEA  (IRUÑEAN ROKANROLIK EZ)

Iruñea rockers/ couldn’t stand it: / what the city can’t offer them/ they must look elsewhere./ They’re the new road pilgrims./ Four or five mates get together/ and go in a car;/ going out in the evening./ coming back early morning./ If they get pulled over , they all confess together: There’s no rock and roll in Iruñea./ In Gares, in Lakuntza, in Altsasu/ they found what to listen to;/ in Bergara, in Gasteiz, even in Sos/ they had a great time. / They are the new road pilgrims. / Each time further,/ Zaragoza and Bilbao;/ they’ll keep going/ until the end of their days. / If on the way, they get pulled over again, they will all confess together: /There’s no rock and roll in Iruñea

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