DESCRIPTION
These songs were created as blues compositions but could fit other genres -- country, r and b, straight rock; "Last Man in Cairo" could be done slow, a lament. These songs came from the gut when I was finishing up my 12th year in Cairo and witnessing anguish on the street and in my heart. I was seeing human nature unfold in harsh, sometimes poignantly naked ways. I'm a writer (and translator), but I'd never been visited by the song muse until I was living through these days. [545 words]
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
American writer/translator/traveler. Lived more than a decade in the Middle East, teaching and writing. [July 2013]
Cairo Revolution Songs Richard Stevens
Last Man in Cairo (title)
There�s a peculiar way of talkin�
Where the truth ain�t what it seems
Sometimes you could say it�s lying
Sometimes it�s the actual thing
Now I hear the preacher man mutter
�stead of callin� to noontime prayers
and there ain�t no cars on Main Street
but there�s a jet right over my head.
You can talk about your big cities
I�ve lived in �em one by one
But you can�t know the way I�m feelin�
�Til there�s no place left to run.
I�m the loneliest man in Cairo, baby.
That�s the truth that�s going around
It don�t matter �bout the 20 million
If your loved ones ain�t in town.
I�m the last man in Cairo, baby,
It�s beginning to feel like a slog
I�m wonderin� where all the people are gone
While I�m out here walking my dog.
Well, it wouldn�t be so bad in Pine Ridge, Georgia
Where there ain�t many souls any way
But I�m a long, long way from home
And I�m feelin� down today.
Yeah, I�m lost in the Arab City, not an Arab
Bone in my hand, and I heard the news today,
�Boy, get on out of our land.
You ain�t on no census, stupid,
You don�t have no group-invite,
You got a danged good reason to beat it
And do or don�t that dog bite?�
Yeah, I�m the last man in Cairo, baby,
Send me my ticket back
20 million all around me
but I�m havin� a heart attack.
Shame You�re a Target Now (title)
Most of life�s in the small things
And you do them well
Or not
But there�s one more thing worth
Counting
It�s not a �do,� it�s a �got�
Have you got a dollar or don�t you?
Have you got red hair or white?
Do you kneel to pray to Allah
Or do you light a prayer wheel
At night?
What is it you�ve got on your face,
Is that white, tan, pink or black?
I wonder if you got a license,
We might have to send you back.
Yeah, baby, you are so many things,
So many things beautiful and right,
It�s a doggone shame you
Got to be a target,
Well, you better learn how to fight
It might be there�s a lot of sniffing
When you standing in the check-out line,
You might get a look on the sidewalk
And a �better watch your behind.�
Yeah, there�s all kinds of trouble brewing
That you cannot understand
That�s because it ain�t what you�re
Doing
No, see, you�re a certain kind
Of man
It sure is a shame being a target, baby,
Most of us been there once or twice
But now that you know what�s happening,
You�d better sing these blues tonight:
�I am a target, you all, and I want the world
to know
my life�s turned upside down,
I feel like I�m fixing to blow
How can I stay around
How can I just be me
When a hundred other people
Think I�m not where I�m supposed
To be?
�Yeah-yeah, I�m a target, momma,
and it surely is a drag
can�t put my mind on tomorrow
when I�m in somebody else�s bag.
Fadeout talking:
You know, I�ve been
Feeling funny around here, like
I grew a second nose or
Something. You know what I�m saying?
Just funny.
I could have sworn the other day
I felt somebody�s finger
Drawing a big circle on my back
Then a quick poke, right in the
Center. Hey, that�s my
Heart, man. How�s that supposed to
Make a person feel? �yeah,
I know. Haha. Target. Sure nuff.
I believe I�m fixing to blow
This place. Yeah, I know.
It�s a shame. Agree with you
All the way on that�
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah�
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