| I can see a boy of fourteen
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| He’s got a rifle in his hand
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| He’s dying to defend his desert land
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| He’s got an arm around his father
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| Another arm around his gun
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| Must the child in the father die so young?
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| There’s a teenage girl in Belfast
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| Playing in the street
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| Her brother plays a different game and he’s turning up the heat
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| On the soldiers around the corner
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| And the powers overseas
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| And who are they to ruin lives like these?
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| 'Cos they’re yours and they’re mine
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| They’re yours and mine
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| 'Cos they’re yours and they’re mine
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| Yours and mine
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| So you think that it’s so easy
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| Just to let I pass you by
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| You watch T.V. and pretend it’s all a lie
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| But you know there is no Third World
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| It happens to us all
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| There’s just one world and the kids are the first to fall
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| And they’re yours and they’re mine
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| They’re yours and mine
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| And they’re yours and they’re mine
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| They’re yours and mine
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| They’re yours and they’re mine
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| Yours and mine
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| And she raised him for something
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| Better than a bullet
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| He’s a every mother’s son
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| And she raised him for something
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| Better than a bullet
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| He’s a every mother’s son
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| And she raised him for something
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| Better than a bullet
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| He’s a every mother’s son
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| His life’s hanging from a trigger
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| I won’t to pull it
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| 'Cos they’re yours and they’re mine
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| They’re yours and mine
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| 'Cos they’re yours and they’re mine
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| They’re yours and mine
|
| 'Cos they’re yours and they’re mine
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| They’re yours and mine
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| 'Cos they’re yours and they’re mine
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| Yours and mine |