Tha Blue Herb - 06 路上 | Текст песни

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• Tha Blue Herb
• 06 路上

Tha BLUE HERB
ROJYOU [On The Street]

Accordin to karma, I will die by mistaken identity.
It's not funny, that fate is itself a mistake.

This is what I heard when I was just a kid, that my great-grand father died while he was walking
on a street on which he never walked before.
He was killed by a surpise landslide, old men in the neighbourhood said it was a case of mistaken
identify.
My uncle was mistaken as a Maoist activist who had the same name save letter spelled differently,
nobody's heard from him since he got arrested 8 years ago.
Recently I don't hear it, but everytime I was about to leave the house, my father used to tell me;

'Don't stand out, make sure you don't get found by the karma, don't get mistaken for another.
Alright? Don't stand out, grandpa and your uncle were also the eldest brother.'

So I walked out to the street, bending forward as I stepped on my shoelace.

Miserably and heartlessly, today's sun also sets, and the west wind brings a coldness.
THe darkness slowly shaves the sunset in the east that transforms the curtain, and the day goes to
sleep.
Indistinct contours and complexions, this is the beginning of a morning where pleasure amd money sing loudest.
The dead black birds start to caw, this is the world where secret businesses have the advantage.
I saw my father, exhausted by asking round money lenders, dragging an undetachable shadow from the roof.
A loser down on his luck, I'm tried of hearing 'AT least you are alive.'
The tears I had to shed for injustice have long dried up, I seeked desperately for a way to escape.
I could no longer stand living on a doormat, that's when I joined the family of my partners Ram and Ski.
Ski worked the street since he was 18 years old, the same age as I did.
He tricked the most wary girls, and now he surveys the deals of his own crossroads.
A sly and clever fox, a pretence of loyalty to his manager but never gives a damn.
Accompanied by bodyguards, his motto is 'Never miss the chance of your life.'
I take Thai powder and brown sugar, Kathmandu full of chronics this time of the year.
Guests with plenty of dollarss and yen, 'You are special, don't buy from anybody else.'

My partner Ram is a good man who I can rtrust, I met him the night I moved to this town.
His shirt a birthday present from me, my knife is what I got from him.
In the apartment where poverty is squeezed between thin walls, we grew up together.
There was a ray of light entering the room through a crack in the glass, Ram used to say 'We're
gonna beat the karma.' as he watched it.
The street is a spinning theatre, just like looped images of the same person playing.
A man running frantically, looking for good deals, tourists milling round faces stuck in the same expression.
Amongest the noise of car horns, smog, dropouts and sellers' monologues, the sound of daily footsteps
escape without notice.
At a similar time of day, with a similar speed to aball and chain, with an unquenchable thirst.
It passes on , in the towering brick-walled prison, I look into the narrow sky from this cursed land.
Take it back to reality, what has been delived here is a stray dog's howl, 'Has something made
you wanna escape by any cahnce?'
The Japanese who came yesterday was an easy mark, he happily took the sugar for 2000 per gram.
5g will make 10000, out of which, 1000*5g, 5000 goes to Ski, that leaves 5000.
The money I borrowed from Ski was 1000, I would nedd 500*4, 2000for the the next consignment.
The remaining 2000 rupees is my profit, which certainly doesn't pay for the last 5 years.
How many times do yo think I have passed this spot? How much polluted air do you think I have inhaled?
The rats think I'm a member of their family, I even think that this is the only place left for
me on death.
'There is only one other way for us.&#

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