| I always knew that I could seize the world’s imagination
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| And show the possibilities for transformation
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| I saw a nation in decay, but also a solution: Permanent
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| cultural revolution
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| Whenever I played my protest songs the press applauded me
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| Rolled out the red carpet, parted the Red Sea
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| But the petit bourgeois philistines stayed away
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| They preferred their artists to have nothing to say
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| How did I pass my time on earth? |
| Now it can be revealed:
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| I was a Maoist intellectual in the entertainment field
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| I showed the people how they lived and told them it was bad
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| Showed them the insanity inside the bureaucrat
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| And the archetypes and stereotypes that were my stock in trade
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| Toppled all the ivory towers that privilege had made
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| Though I tried to change your mind I never tried your patience
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| All I tried to do was to point out your exploitation
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| But the powers that be took this to be a personal insult
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| And refused to help me build my personality cult
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| How did I pass my time an earth, what on earth got into me?
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| I was a Maoist intellectual in the music industry
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| I left the normal world behind and started living in
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| A hinterland between dissolution and self discipline
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| I burned the midnight oil to build my way of seeing
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| A miner at the coal face of meaning
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| The rich despised the songs I wrote which told the poor their worth
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| Told the shy to speak and told the meek to take the earth
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| But my downfall came from being three things the working classes hated:
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| Agitated, organised and over-educated
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| How did I pass my time on earth, how did I bear witness?
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| As a Maoist intellectual in the entertainment business
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| And how was I treated in this world and in this industry?
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| As a Maoist intellectual in a business would be
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| I became a hotel doorman, I stood there on the doormat
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| Clutching my forgotten discs in their forgotten format
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| Trying to hand them out to all the stars who sauntered in
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| The ones who hadn’t been like me, who hadn’t lived in vain
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| I gave up ideology the day I lost my looks
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| I never found a publisher for my little red books
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| When I died the energy released by my frustration
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| Was nearly enough for re-incarnation
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| But if I could live my life again the last thing that I’d be
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| Is a Maoist intellectual in the music industry
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| No, if I could live my life again I think I’d like to be
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| The man whose job is to stop the men who think like me
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| Yeah! |
| If l could live my life again that’d be the thing to be
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| The man who plots the stumbling blocks
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| In the lives of the likes of me! |