| There was a high pressure low developing off the coast of Africa
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| Uplift in the atmosphere pushed waves
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| Across the ocean towards Antilles and Bonaire
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| I paced in Agitation. |
| I drew the curtains closed
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| I turned the air conditioner on
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| I pressed a warm wash cloth to my face
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| Somewhere out there a hurricane was coming
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| There’s just no future left for us to dream of
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| Living in an era of instability
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| So caught up in the culture of their rivals
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| Fear breeds in honest men
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| It’s a high pressure low
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| 7 missiles flying over the sea of japan
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| Tales of feral children sleeping in wolf dens
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| And the pious preacher commands
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| I hold my breath in anticipation
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| Into the shelter of the jungle noble savages run
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| Vestal virgins triumph over life long inhibitions
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| And I wonder, what is real? |
| What is fiction?
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| Would anyone forgive Robert McNamara?
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| In retrospect he had to admit;
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| There was mistake in going to war without first asking all the questions
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| Yes, Robert Strange McNamara
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| There are those who just cannot forget
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| And I wonder, have I lost my own compassion? |