In the blue of the evenin' when the sun is low
There's a shadow that creeps across my cell block floor
And it comes to remind me what I'm in here for
No, I'm not admittin' that I done the crime
I'm only gettin' down to doin' time
And the passin' of days is no concern of mine
There's a guard on the second shift comes on at three
And he's always about a half inch off of me
Like he needs to keep remindin' me that I'm not free
God forgive him 'cause he doesn't see
He's no less a prisoner 'cause he holds a key
And God forbid he turn his back on me
For every wall you build around your fear
A thousand darker things are born in here
And they're fed on contempt for all that you hold dear
The truth is it doesn't matter what you do
'Til you gaze in that mirror with an eye that's true
And admit that what scares you is the me in you
There's a shadow that creeps across my cell block floor
And it comes to remind me what I'm in here for
No, I'm not admittin' that I done the crime
I'm only gettin' down to doin' time
And the passin' of days is no concern of mine
There's a guard on the second shift comes on at three
And he's always about a half inch off of me
Like he needs to keep remindin' me that I'm not free
God forgive him 'cause he doesn't see
He's no less a prisoner 'cause he holds a key
And God forbid he turn his back on me
For every wall you build around your fear
A thousand darker things are born in here
And they're fed on contempt for all that you hold dear
The truth is it doesn't matter what you do
'Til you gaze in that mirror with an eye that's true
And admit that what scares you is the me in you
Contributed by Dead End - 2012/9/21 - 10:54
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Album “Jerusalem”
“…Ha scritto Robert Christgau che Steve Earle “si identifica con ogni malcapitato stronzo che ha fatto una scelta sbagliata” (vedi, per esempio John Walker's Blues). Fra le scelte sbagliate, per Steve Earle, non c’è solo quella del condannato ma anche quella del carceriere, e dell’ordine sociale di cui è delegato. In “The Truth” il secondino non riesce a staccarsi dal carcerato, “come se avesse bisogno di ricordarsi che sono io quello che non è libero” e non vede che “è carcerato quanto me anche se tiene la chiave – e Dio lo protegga se mai mi volta le spalle”
Per ogni muro che erigete
mille cose più cupe nascono qui dentro
e si nutrono del disprezzo per tutto quello che amate
In verità non conta quello che fai
finchè non ti guardi nello specchio con occhi sinceri
ed ammetti che quello che ti spaventa in me sei tu.”
(Alessandro Portelli, da “Note Americane. Musica e culture negli Stati Uniti”, Shake/Acoma edizioni, 2011)