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AnaAs Mitchell
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Before The Eyes Of Storytelling Girls
I could tell you stories like the government tells lies
Ah, but no one listens anymore
In the rooms, the women come and go
Talking on the mobile phones
And the television talks about the war
When I was a baby there was laughter in my house
My daddy smoked domestic cigarettes
And Thursday nights on the radio
Live in concert, live from Cairo, mother of Egypt
Mama, mama, be with me
With the music in your breast
In your glittering evening dress
And the white flag in your fist trembling
I could tell you stories like the past was dead and gone
But I know nothing changes in this world
Everyday the muezzin calls
The sun comes up and Baghdad falls
Before the eyes of storytelling girls
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She was just a poor man's daughter
Going down into the Sultan's bed
He was desert, she was water
And he remembered every word she said
That she said
And I say, grandma, grandma, be with me
In your tragic wedding gown
With your long hair hanging down
And the stories tumbling out, tumbling
I could tell you stories like the government tells lies
Ah, but no one listens anymore
In the rooms the women come and go
Talking on the mobile phones
And the television talks about the war, about the war
The television talks about the war
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