| We’ve forgotten who we are.
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| As men make their own history, still they know they are chained
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| and bound by all the past traditions of dead generations.
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| So let’s raise this bitter glass to us never getting through.
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| When I look into your eyes, I can see you see it too.
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| For I know that you believe in truth.
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| I try to channel Hughes.
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| Though you doubt me inconsequentially,
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| it gives me more to prove.
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| Was there some hidden grin within your face when we met last winter?
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| Our past still looms over us as we pretend to be friends.
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| We exist through history.
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| Inquiry and knowledge acquired by investigation.
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| You’re like some poor Pharaoh,
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| (but) no more meek tales of past seasons, for tonight we must make haste.
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| You are the hunted King, uncrowned.
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| Cars collide with horses,
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| like mere stings of Civilisations.
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| 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.'
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| to quote George Santayana. |