| This is where the helicopters came to take me away
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| This is where the children used to play
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| This is only half a mile away from the attack
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| This is where my life changed in a day
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| And then it changed back
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| Buried in the din of rotor noise and close explosions
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| I do my best to synthesize the sounds and my emotions
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| This is where the allies bombed the school
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| They say by mistake
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| Here nobody takes me for a fool, just for a fake
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| Later at the hotel bar, the journalists are waiting
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| I hurry back to my guitar while they’re commiserating
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| And I’ll be leaving soon
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| I’ll be leaving soon
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| Just as soon as we were on the ground
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| We were back in the jet
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| Just another three day foreign tour we’d never forget
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| It’s hard to sympathize with all this devastation
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| Hopping 'round from site to site like tourists on vacation
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| And I’ll be leaving soon
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| I’ll be leaving soon
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| I can’t help anyone cause everyone’s so cold
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| Everyone’s so skeptical of everything they’re told
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| And even I get sick of needing to be sold
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| Though it’s only half a month away, the media’s gone
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| An entertaining scandal broke today, but I can’t move on
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| I’m haunted by a story and I do my best to tell it
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| Can’t even give this stuff away, why would I sell it?
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| Everybody’s laughing, while at me they point a finger
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| A world that loves its irony must hate the protest singer
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| So I’ll be leaving soon
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| I’ll be leaving soon
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| I’ll be leaving soon
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| I’ll be leaving soon |