Lyrics: Positive Black Soul (Senegal) - Le bourreau est noir


From the album 'Salaam' (1995)
Lyrics translated from French as in the album inlay


For some time now you've talked about illgotten gains
Years have passed but tell me what's the upshot of your pains
I was proud then of your stand for justice
But all tracks were covered no room for discussion
It's difficult to attack certain men or their sons
You're judging the dynasty - it's utopian
But you're maturing with blows from millions in money,
corruption, religion
Many have understood but they avoid the solution
Dealing with religious leaders, you know it's dangerous
It's a matter of certain families, you know it's tendentious
Democracy, democray what a terrific con
The irony is, in Africa we're in some sort of transition
The same dominating the same, the dominated are dominated
And year after year, the sons of the dominated are dominated
And damned, swept aside, rejected
Quite simply I'll show you a youth condemned

In truth, in truth it's all about money
And I'm bitter each time I talk about Africa
We're being driven like black sheep to the slaughter
And I'm so ashamed for the executioner is black

I object to the directive, 'Buy Senegalese'
It's just shady politics, cynism, sadism, in fact it's sleazy
On the radio, on the television, it's the slogan you hear
But I watch, I observe, I analyse, no fear
We cannot compete with complete monopolies
Given to neocolonials to perpetuate ther policies
With inferior products, just look at the price it's spurious
It's made in Senegal but it's too dear and I am furious
I prefer the other sugar, the soap from elsewhere
It's cheaper, it's healthier, why it's just better fare
You're not patriotic OK, someone wil harp on
But I'm not any less than those ministers wearing Chevignon
They eat French food, they eat French food, their wives don the latest English fashion
While I dash about to make ends meet Senegalese style
Same pipe, same tobacco, Sankara I liked him, it was sad
Annihilated like all those blokes who saw the truth, too bad
It is true, it is all about the money
And I am bitter each time I talk about Africa
We're being driven like black sheep to the slaughter
And I am so ashamed for the executioner is black

I criticise, I never proffer a solution
Like everyone, I might have one
But there's derision for my opinion
In Africa I foresee a grand revolution
An African president for a new generation
A hard dictator who'll clean up the mess
Democracy's not for us, we're not mature, I guess
They want to divide us, so we won't realise
That together we're strong, their game is to balkanise
The state will turn atheist, religious sects will cool it
Everyone can practice his religion, without proving it
No more ethnic or tribal divisions, but diverse populations
Money will be extracted from those who ordered executions
The economy will be simpler for we've got the raw materials
Those with experience should return so we can reclaim
The years we've lost, let's deal with ourselves for our gain
I am in need, you who are not, you help me out
As for the south, I said the south
For I've lost enough to the north
It's time to honour the dead and their worth

We are being driven like black sheep to the slaughter
And I am ashamed for the executioner is black



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