| We don’t own this place, though we act as if we did
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| It’s a loan from the children of our children’s kids
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| The actual owners haven’t even been born yet
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| Bur we never tend the garden and rarely we pay the rent
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| Most of it is broken and the rest of it is bent
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| Put it all on plastic and I wonder where we’ll be when the bills hit
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| We can run
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| But we can’t hide from it
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| Of all possible worlds
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| We only got one:
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| We gotta ride on it
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| Whatever we’ve done
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| We’ll never get far from what we leave behind
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| Baby, we can run, run, run, but we can’t hide
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| Oh no, we can’t hide
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| I’m dumpin' my trash in your back yard
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| Makin' certain you don’t notice really isn’t so hard
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| You’re so busy with your guns and all of your excuses to use them
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| Well, it’s oil for the rich and babies for the poor
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| We got everyone believin' that more is more
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| If a reckoning comes, maybe we will know what to do then
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| All these complications seem to leave no choice
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| I heard the tongues of billion speak with just one voice
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| Saying, «Just leave all the rest to me
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| I need it worse than you, you see.»
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| And then I heard…
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| The sound of one child crying
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| Today I went walking in the amber wind
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| There’s a hole in the sky where the light pours in
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| I remembered the days when I wasn’t afraid of the sunshine
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| But now it beats down on the asphalt land
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| Like a hammering blow from God’s left hand
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| What little still grows cringes in the shade till the night time |