Текст песни The Promised Land (Beau) с переводом

The dust is unacceptable

Though the air is very still,

And the ancient bus is coughing

As it splutters up the hill.

Down in the valley, lightning flashes

Split a frightened sky;

And buzzards wheel and wait

For all the animals to die.

The scene moves to the mountain top

Where, toiling through the night

To the sunrise haze, communiqués

From the left and from the right

Are passed along down passageways

From the many focus groups;

Info packs for the hungry hacks

And the waiting party troops.

They talk of how the failing rains

Have been getting out of hand

And of regret they haven’t yet

Produced the Promised Land.

And yes, we can be reassured about

The steepness of that hill

And of the rush there is to push

Their Transportation Bill.

They worry about the lightning storm;

They ask me how it feels.

I say I think they’re missing out

On loftier ideals;

That maybe they should take a glance

At the buzzards in the sky.

They shake my hand and say

I’ve been a really helpful guy.

So we offer up our precious votes

With all those hopes and dreams.

The focus groups have done their work,

Or that’s the way it seems.

We all become their Facebook friends,

We take their Twitter feed;

And ironically, they follow us

When once they used to lead.

Yet the dust is unexplainable

Though the air is deathly still.

The ancient bus still coughs

And struggles gamely on the hill.

Down in the valley, thunder roars

Across a frightened sky.

The buzzards wheel and wait

For all the animals to die…

Перевод песни The Promised Land