Dear Mr.President

Thursday, June 7th 2007

Dalam perjalanan malam ini, di dalam mobil sambil dengerin radio, menuju sebuah tempat di bilangan Pondok Indah yang merupakan rutinitas baru di malam hari yang kadang2 membosankan beberapa minggu ini dan masih akan berlangsung sampai bulan depan, tiba-tiba terputarlah lagu ini : Dear Mr.President, atau kalau dibahasa Indonesia dengan tidak baik dan tidak benar, mungkin judulnya jadi : Salam Pak Presiden…

Jarang2 denger lagu yang begini. Lagunya mirip2 lagu baladanya Iwan Falls yang cuma bermelodikan genjrengan gitar dengan diiringi backing vokal. Liriknya menyentuh, walaupun yakin lah seyakin-yakinnya kalau nggak akan pernah menyentuh Sang Presiden. Kalau bukan negara demokrasi, mungkin penyanyi dan penciptanya sekarang lagi menikmati ‘indahnya’ bui. Dinyanyikan oleh penyanyi dari negara yang katanya adikuasa, maka tentunya lagu tersebut ditujukan buat the evilest person in the world, Mr.You-know-Who >:)

My ears are still not good enough to hear foreign language, then at home, I tried to find the lyric. Asked Uncle Google and my problem solved at that time. Penasaran? Nggak perlu lagi, karena saat ini juga sampean bisa baca liriknya di bawah ini.

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Dear Mr.President
(Pink feat. Indigo Girls)

Dear Mr. President,
Come take a walk with me.
Let’s pretend we’re just two people and
You’re not better than me.
I’d like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly.

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?
What do you feel when you look in the mirror?
Are you proud?

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why?

Dear Mr. President,
Were you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
How can you say
No child is left behind?
We’re not dumb and we’re not blind.
They’re all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell.

What kind of father would take his own daughter’s rights away?
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You’ve come a long way from whiskey and cocaine.

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye?

Let me tell you ’bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you ’bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you ’bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you ’bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don’t know nothing ’bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Dear Mr. President,
You’d never take a walk with me.
Would you?