Live at WOMAD 1982

Biko (Live)

Lighter

The song is based on my poem: 
January: A World Beginning
January wakes slow in the North,
Where frost threads lace on every pane,
And breath becomes a visible thing—
A small white promise leaving lips.
The days are pale, obedient, quiet,
Learning how to lengthen again.
In the mountains of Japan,
Snow falls like the hush after prayer—
Temples ring one clear bell,
And the year bows its head to begin.
In the savannas of Kenya,
The sun is not a stranger—
It stands guard in a copper sky
While acacia shadows stretch like long-limbed dancers.
New rains are stories still being written
Across thirsty soil.
In Argentina, January is a festival—
Mangoes split sweet at dusk,
Children run with bare shoulders,
And time moves with the slow confidence
Of heat shimmering on stone.
The year begins in a summer’s exhale.
In Reykjavik, the night lingers,
A patient guest at every table.
Candles bloom in windows,
And families gather close,
Singing warmth into the dark
With wool, with laughter, with soup.
In India’s north, the morning fog
Rests heavy on the yellow fields;
Kites wait to take the sky at festival time,
Color staking claim against the pale cool heavens.
January is gentle here, but watchful.
In Berlin, London, Montreal—
Grey is not sadness but a canvas
For the smallest sparks of life:
A café window fogged by tea steam,
The sudden flight of pigeons,
A scarf pulled close,
Someone deciding—quietly—
To stay, to try, to begin again.
January is no single thing.
It is hearth and horizon,
Snowstorm and sunstroke,
Dormancy and seed.
It is the earth’s deep breath before speaking,
The human heart clearing space
For whatever might grow.

January is a beginning shaped differently across the world: in the North it wakes slowly, breath turning to frost-threaded lace on glass as days learn to lengthen again, while in Japan snow falls like silence after prayer and bells ring in the new year. In Kenya the sun stands firm over acacia shadows and rains write new stories in the earth, even as Argentina tastes summer—mango-sweet, bare-shouldered, unhurried. Reykjavik keeps candles blooming against the lingering night, India lifts kites into fog-soaked dawn, and cities like Berlin and London wear grey as a quiet canvas for small hopes—a warm scarf, a fogged café window, a moment of deciding to begin once more. January holds both seed and snowstorm, hearth and horizon: the earth breathing in before it speaks, and the human heart making room for what may grow.

JANUARY

Som ni vill
vad jag pratar om, vem jag snackar för? 
Och som vem?
Ett tidsfördriv
Jag växer i
Jag snackar ju
om min utopi
där alla trivs
som farsan sa;
—han dog
Men som farsan sa:
exakt så här ont
ska vi ha ...

refr. Han gör ingenting han gör ingening,
och det gör ingenting, det gör ingenting 

maskinsystem 
ska förklara vad
vi lever för
lever av ... 
Jag fattar ju
de dricker oss 
dricker oss
Ett svart billigt vin
Och låt dricka opp!
Låt mönster i vardagen, 
ge en ny patriotism
som klyver vanskliga spår, 
i kriget om
vi och dom!

Ni gör ingenting ni gör ingening x 2)
Det gör ingenting osv.

Så vad gick fel? säg, 
vem har fel?
Kloka ord
Taskigt överlagt 
är det slavens makt!
visst trivs du då här 
General 
konsumtion
och generellt
är vi i samma skit som dom!
en härjad båt
i Ett medelhav 
Vi driver fram 
Från ett bombat land

(kommer vi fram?
till ett barndomsland)

refr. Ni gör ingenting x2
men det gör ingening x2
Fiss-moll Ciss-moll D-dur Ciss-moll

Öst då,
öster om! 
öster om
söder från! 
öst
öster om
kommer dom!
Öster om väst. 

genomlev sen
din depression
skriv en dystopi
som du redan pinkat i
Och vad ska komma fram? 
Ur ett monogram
som farsan snott 
till ett partiprogram?

dom gör ingenting, dom gör ingening
Det gör ingenting, det gör ingenting 

ÖST! DÅ!
öster om! söder från, 
öster om!
öst
öster om väst 
söder om! 
där kommer dom
osv.

(Solo)
Öst, öster
Söderifrån 
Kommer dom? Där Kommer dom.
Hur lever dom!
Lever dom då, hur fan lever dom?
LEVER DOM? Hur lever dom.
Hur fan lever de?

Lever dom? 
Öster om. 

Öster om väst! 

Håkan Kristensson  text/ l Sundberg, E Forsberg musik

Biko (Live)

Peter Gabriel

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