No Rope As Long As Time Lyrics

	作曲 : Skaith
	Old Afrikaner farmer on the terrace of his home
	Sits gently in his rocking chair, gazing at this land he owns.
	There he sees his memories and there his past
	There he smiles his grim smile, strokes his gun, swears he'll make it last.
	Someone brings the whisky, someone serves the meal
	Like the someone in the township, in the mine and in the fields.
	Someone at the graveyard, someone with their tears
	Someone who can't forget the freedom lost these 100 years.
	Old man, you can boost about the gun that's by your bed
	Old man, you can tell me how you're good for all your kaffirs yet
	And your guns can fire, and your prisons fill
	And you've yards of rope for hanging still
	But your guns can shoot and never hit the sky
	And there's no rope as long as time.
	Mandela in the prison, Biko in the ground
	Sharpeville and Soweto voices silenced till the end of time.
	Freedom don't come easy, don't come bloodless, don't come fast
	But in the hearts of the countless people
	No pass law's gonna stop us pass.
	Sometimes he'll talk of reasons, economy and cause
	Sometimes he'll even talk of changes
	Though he clasps the gun and talks of laws.
	But power ain't this old man's gift
	And freedom's no reform
	The old man made the history and the history's made of wars.

	zuo qu : Skaith
	Old Afrikaner farmer on the terrace of his home
	Sits gently in his rocking chair, gazing at this land he owns.
	There he sees his memories and there his past
	There he smiles his grim smile, strokes his gun, swears he' ll make it last.
	Someone brings the whisky, someone serves the meal
	Like the someone in the township, in the mine and in the fields.
	Someone at the graveyard, someone with their tears
	Someone who can' t forget the freedom lost these 100 years.
	Old man, you can boost about the gun that' s by your bed
	Old man, you can tell me how you' re good for all your kaffirs yet
	And your guns can fire, and your prisons fill
	And you' ve yards of rope for hanging still
	But your guns can shoot and never hit the sky
	And there' s no rope as long as time.
	Mandela in the prison, Biko in the ground
	Sharpeville and Soweto voices silenced till the end of time.
	Freedom don' t come easy, don' t come bloodless, don' t come fast
	But in the hearts of the countless people
	No pass law' s gonna stop us pass.
	Sometimes he' ll talk of reasons, economy and cause
	Sometimes he' ll even talk of changes
	Though he clasps the gun and talks of laws.
	But power ain' t this old man' s gift
	And freedom' s no reform
	The old man made the history and the history' s made of wars.

	zuò qǔ : Skaith
	Old Afrikaner farmer on the terrace of his home
	Sits gently in his rocking chair, gazing at this land he owns.
	There he sees his memories and there his past
	There he smiles his grim smile, strokes his gun, swears he' ll make it last.
	Someone brings the whisky, someone serves the meal
	Like the someone in the township, in the mine and in the fields.
	Someone at the graveyard, someone with their tears
	Someone who can' t forget the freedom lost these 100 years.
	Old man, you can boost about the gun that' s by your bed
	Old man, you can tell me how you' re good for all your kaffirs yet
	And your guns can fire, and your prisons fill
	And you' ve yards of rope for hanging still
	But your guns can shoot and never hit the sky
	And there' s no rope as long as time.
	Mandela in the prison, Biko in the ground
	Sharpeville and Soweto voices silenced till the end of time.
	Freedom don' t come easy, don' t come bloodless, don' t come fast
	But in the hearts of the countless people
	No pass law' s gonna stop us pass.
	Sometimes he' ll talk of reasons, economy and cause
	Sometimes he' ll even talk of changes
	Though he clasps the gun and talks of laws.
	But power ain' t this old man' s gift
	And freedom' s no reform
	The old man made the history and the history' s made of wars.

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