| Ooh, there’s no bread, let 'em eat cake
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| There’s no end to what they’ll take
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| Flaunt the fruits of noble birth
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| Wash the salt into the earth
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| But they’re marching to Bastille Day
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| The guillotine will claim her bloody prize
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| Free the dungeons of the innocent
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| The king will kneel and let his kingdom rise
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| Ooh, bloodstained velvet, dirty lace
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| Naked fear on every face
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| See them bow their heads to die
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| As we would bow when they rode by
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| And we’re marching to Bastille Day
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| The guillotine will claim her bloody prize
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| Sing, oh choirs of cacophony
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| The king has kneeled to let his kingdom rise
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| Lessons taught but never learned
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| All around us, anger burns
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| Guide the future by the past
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| Long ago the mould was cast
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| For they marched up to Bastille Day
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| The guillotine claimed her bloody prize
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| Hear the echoes of the centuries
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| Power isn’t all that money buys |