| Everybody’s got a number tattooed on their soul
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| And the time’s gonna come boy, when your number’s called
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| Everybody gets a uniform and a hut to live in
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| They give you your rank, you tell 'em your next of kin
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| And there’s no escape for the likes of you, my friend
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| But I’m gonna be out on an island
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| In the middle of the bright blue sea
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| Out on an island
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| Where nobody’s gonna bother looking for me
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| Everybody gets the training, in the wind and the rain
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| Ten miles cross country, driving you insane
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| Everybody gets to jump the hoop and march in time
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| You just gotta remember you gotta toe the line
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| So dont go looking over your shoulder for me
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| Every number’s a hero and every hero’s a son
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| But every son’s just a number when the battles begun
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| So don’t go waiting on the corner for me |