| I’m having trouble hearing the loud voice in my mind
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| It’s screaming out the warnings which are happier left behind
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| Like a ship which ploughs untroubled through a sea of burning oil
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| So our heads are firmly stuck in sand and all our thoughts recoil
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| Three score and ten
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| Is all we’re men
|
| And damn what happens then
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| Sunlight glistens brightly on the metals meant for war
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| East and West smile across the wall, each are afraid to draw
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| Black and white wait to fight but neither can win at all
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| And the mess they’ll leave won’t be fit to breathe
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| But choking, men will still call:
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| Three score and ten
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| Is all we’re man
|
| And damn what happens then
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| The puppets dance and nod their heads while gold pulls all the strings
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| Their claims to rule and guide us all are as worthless as their grins
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| They take the young and teach them death but call it bravery
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| But soon there’ll be no-one left to fight; |
| there’ll be no-one left to be
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| Three score and ten
|
| Is all we’re man
|
| And damn what happens then
|
| Spoken:
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| Run swiftly down the tunnel of time
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| Past the stones of discontent
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| Through the thorns of pain
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| And on
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| Run swiftly down the tunnel of time
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| The sunshine of life
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| The storm and after, the rain
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| And on
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| Run swiftly on
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| Life doesn’t seem long
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| The lessons of the past
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| Were taught to last
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| So teach the brain
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| And never the rain
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| Shall wash the stain
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| On the flaking tomb of man
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| Three score and ten
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| What happens then?
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| Damn what happens then… |