The Refugee
- Ezra Furman
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Time: 4/4 ·
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Verse 1
Am Dm
I am a refugee now, I am running like mad
G C E
across a frosty green Poland, my head in a sack.
Am Dm
And the blood in my brain screaming "How did this happen?"
G C E
and "Where am I now?" Who is so blue in this freeze?
Verse 2
Am Dm
Who is so grey with the history, rain dancing all
G C E
on my face without mercy and the muscles relax.
Am Dm
And I just have to laugh through the loose teeth and tissue,
G C E
the symphony builds under your boot.
Verse 3
Am Dm
And the horns drool in harmony, dancers all swoon,
G C E
this is my bloody tune, my last gasp of the past.
Am Dm
My thorn in the side of the violence of time,
G C E
I won't scream, I won't writhe, I am laughing and burning.
Verse 4
Am Dm
Alive like a thornbush that grew in the hot
G C E
countryside, now the fire is high and I am not
Am Dm
consumed. Yes, this is the room,
G C E
this is the old song from memory, this is the sound of the
Am Dm G C E
Jew who refuses to die.
Interlude
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Verse 5
Am Dm
April 4th, 1944,
G C E
I recall my old address no more.
Am Dm
I live day to day on the glossy dancefloor
G C E
of a wide countryside full of disappeared people.
Verse 6
Am Dm
I sleep in the churches, eat grass like a goat,
G C E
the calendar hangs on the wall of my memory.
Am Dm
My name is inscribed up the sleeve of my coat,
G C E
here I am.
Interlude
| Am | Dm | G | C E |
Verse 7
Am Dm
Take this document with you, the lines that I wrote
G C E
as I bled through the night in a strange rusted land.
Am Dm
I have ripped the page out, it is here in my hand,
G C E
here I am.
Verse 8
Am Dm
Person of the book but I have lost my page
G C E
like so many others I am left to inscribe
Am Dm
my own name on a torn one we will have a new book
G C E
scattered far across the expanses. The scrapbook
Verse 9
Am Dm
of signatures scrawled in forgotten, lost diaries,
G C E
texts to recite when time's bloody boot, dances
Am Dm
and kicks in the bone of our chest, like soft earth
G C E
and our ancient hoarse voices will echo in song.
Verse 10
Am Dm
And resound off the curve of a high stony ceiling,
G C E
the curve of the arch from our death to our
Outro
birth.
Outro
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