| It all started with the joke he said
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| What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine
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| We did not understand that it would be
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| What would one day hurt us
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| Were the days, the golden days
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| And the sun shone without asking
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| Then we grew up and left the neighborhood
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| Duck works in a butcher shop
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| Those times of rose gardens
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| Brides of Flowers, first cigarettes
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| Never to school, always life
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| And the mornings of the sun that
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| We've grown up and seen the world in the newspapers
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| Communism Was Complicated
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| What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine
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| It has led us to indifference
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| You have excuses, the others have
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| That they keep you, that's what they're for
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| You are the most corrupt bourgeois that exists
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| And you fool yourself into thinking you're a hippie
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| You exploit everyone and give nothing
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| And that is being the worst capitalist
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| When you have, you play the donkey
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| You live from above, you disgust me
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| You laugh at the world and at people
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| But you want the world to feed you
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| Others provide you with what you need
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| And you continue to believe that it is common
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| How useless you are, how maintained
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| Take a look at yourself, come down from there
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| You are always in artist and you become the genius
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| You cultivate your absent and carefree air
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| Because you super like playing weird
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| And your fame has got you so worried
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| you make yourself drink, how you cheat
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| You are a lie and you are useless
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| Duck works in a butcher shop
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| Duck works in a butcher shop
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| Duck works in a butcher shop |