Dangereux

I put words on paper,
Compose texts and shout them out, yeah my tongue is loose.
My crime is speaking loud,
Relating what my peers will never express in a mic.
The lines are drawn, we’re just simple voters,
But nothing stops us from bringing more terror to their mistakes.
I thought I wouldn’t even touch on it, but I had to
Get real, when the judge wanted to call me in.
It wasn’t the first time for a rap group
That censorship hits and the quotes sting.

So I thought, the text is cool, there’s no issue.
Wrong, I had become the public enemy of the welfare office.
It was clear, the higher-ups wanted my trophy.
A month later, those bureaucrats blocked my file.
What cinema is allowed, TV, books,
And magazines for us is prohibited.
Incitement to violence.
It’s like for every murder, they blame Jack Palance.
I have communication issues.
The cops listen to all my conversations.
I get chills and it disrupts my life.
My anger grows every time Minute writes.

Spouting unhealthy lies,
Ask my mom if her son is a killer.
They trigger my revenge at their own expense.
If I could live far from the snakes,
I thought I was a nice guy, a model dad, wonderful.
To them, I’m dangerous.
If someone had told me one day I’d be classified, flagged,
Simply for expressing my ideas,
Touching on topics deemed taboo,
Putting on paper everything happening around us.
I thought I lived in a free country, naive,
I realized that undesirable are the non-passive minds,
Refusing to be a sheep, to join the herd,
To close my eyes and turn my back.

To the mold they tried to fit me into,
I found myself labeled a rebel of a society
Hypocritical, where some have so much power
That with total impunity, they can spit on history.
This grim reality forces me to take risks,
To free my thoughts, to become a journalist,
A fugitive, a whistleblower, a loudspeaker,
Too often, placed in the crosshairs.
Of those who think they’re safe from the watchful eye
Of people like me on the lookout, who let nothing slide,
Freedom of speech, a vast joke.
The gap is wide between what’s heard and what’s written.
I state facts even though it costs me,
Photos on the walls, phones on listening tables.
I’m accused of shouting too loud what I think,
Of holding a mirror up to people, that bothers them.
And if the crew represents purity today,
Even in broad daylight, all cats are gray.
I want to do good and nothing else,
But to them, I’m a scabby sheep, a Dangerous guy.