| Well the fiery 5 points came from queen of Babylon
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| Rotten rapture and lines of lives that came undone
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| And how cool wind blew their dreams away like paper cups
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| Now they’re bound and bearing the shadows of the gun
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| Let’s sing
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| And the stranded senioritas fall and take a knee
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| For the anthem dark and rising drum
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| While the cholos in their Chevrolets and mercy streets
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| And the shiny wall for the bankers at the Bronx
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| Then they line the halls of the prison, it becomes
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| But maybe then we’ll be free
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| When the battle lines meet
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| Maybe then we’ll be one
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| When the counting is done
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| Maybe then we’ll be free
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| When the reckoning comes
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| So the choir boys hide their voices bruised and out of tune
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| While the priest is in the harbor rides a wave
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| And the bar girls drown their choices in their silver spoons
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| With a junkman’s nightmare crashing in their veins
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| And the rich ride silver horses to their waiting ships
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| While the poor cry out for justice and cocaine
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| And they all bow to the new clown of the apocalypse
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| And he stamps the truth and slides out onto the stage
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| Then as the footlocks melt the grease paint from his face
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| It’s very hard to tell the master from his slaves
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| But maybe then we’ll be free
|
| When the battle lines meet
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| Maybe then we’ll be one
|
| When the counting is done
|
| Maybe then we’ll be free
|
| When the reckoning comes
|
| When the reckoning comes
|
| When the reckoning comes
|
| When the reckoning comes
|
| Maybe then we’ll be free
|
| When the battle lines meet
|
| Maybe then we’ll be one
|
| When the counting is done
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| Maybe then we’ll see peace
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| When the hearts are released
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| Maybe we’ll reach true sun
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| When the gauntlet is run
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| Maybe then we’ll be free
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| When the reckoning comes
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| When the reckoning comes
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| When the reckoning comes |