| I’m sitting around at the checkpoint
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| Keeping myself to myself
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| My heart’s going out to the girl with the gun
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| She is young, she is fun, she is deadly
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| She clocks off, goes back to the city
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| Goes to a club with her friends
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| I just took a walk through the checkpoint
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| Past columns of poor Arab sons
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| They queue through the day for a chance to make pay
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| For something to put in their mouths
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| He can’t sleep at night without gunfire
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| The lullaby puts him to sleep
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| We stand there accused of the British collusion
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| Israel into Palestine
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| A victory for some an astonishing hope
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| But for him it has brought devastation
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| He lives like a prisoner in exile
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| He lives like a prisoner in hell
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| Dates black and white in the blue vault of space
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| Swoop around like a symbol of peace
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| Can they see the hawk?
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| They’re too busy in talk of love
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| Why should they contemplate fear?
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| Everyone meets in the cramped city streets
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| Hipsters of zion collide
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| To talk music and dross
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| At the sign of The Cross
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| We eat our falafel in peace
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| The girl lets her uniform slip
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| The boy cracks a joke he is sweet
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| He listens to Hip Hop in Gaza
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| She listens to Coldplay in Lod |