We wear daisies out of fashion, robbing herds
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And an ox, once the name of a sacrifice, is the title of a friend
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Vietnamese on both legs and as a comfort head
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On the lapel of a badge as a dog tag - a sign of belonging to the crowd
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Our generation also has its prominences
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The program is resigning and slapping arguments
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The applause is silent and the whistling to praise
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And instead of convincing, just drinking beer - out of grief
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Below the porcupine's butt page, we call on the golden calf
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We sit in the corners by the paintings, waiting for the Savior
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We starve hungrily, we - Gottwald's grandchildren
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And we swear at the townspeople, creating the Revolution
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Our generation also has its penitents
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And honorary bastards and modest officials
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And creatures without conscience and reptiles without a spine
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And a life of unconsciousness and love - distrust
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We are no longer, we are not what we once knew, we already know to bend our backs
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We can compromise and betray a friend
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And, grateful to today's reality, we kiss strange hands
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And one day we'll go away from that sad revolution
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We already have witnesses in our generation
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And their own emigration and their own martyrs
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Recital: And with our mouths smashed, we stayed silent today
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No, we are not on our knees - we are digging our ground! |