| We were waiting tables in time’s square
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| When we got the call
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| To play the part of revolutionaries
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| Who help bring about an empire’s fall
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| We’ve toiled in the service industry
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| So we could be here waiting, waiting in the wings
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| We’re counting on these songs to set us free
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| The stories of a great revolution
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| Are passionately told on this stage
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| We need no director’s motivation
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| We know quite well the roles that we play
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| The patrons paid a handsome ticket price without batting an eye
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| And mingled towards their seats
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| They do not feel the drama in between the stage and mezzanine
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| They’ve come for the spectacle of actors dismantling their machines
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| They smile because they know its just fantasy
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| The echoes of the old revolution
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| Resound in theaters lining Broadway
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| The suits and gowns give standing ovations
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| Can’t we unseat them some other way?
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| In the stage left balcony
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| Theres two old men heckling me
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| They’re shouting that I sing off key
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| And the shows a classic tragedy
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| Stage lights
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| Its hard to see
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| That we’re still working 42nd street
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| The rumors of a failed revolution
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| Are verified when we take the stage
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| We have no time to seek liberation
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| We’re happy to merely entertain
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| There’s whispers of a new revolution
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| That linger on our lips while we sing |