| Tired faces scream from their bright magazines
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| Got their fingernails clamped to the page
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| With a look of the born to be painfully ordinary gods of a desperate age
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| There’s no stories to tell, but there’s a spokesperson yelling
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| At a volume to drown out your voice
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| Saying «justice be done, there’s a change gonna come
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| But in secret and you won’t get a choice.»
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| So to hell with the world, I still love you my girl
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| You''ve been crazy to stay by my side
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| So let’s stand and let’s sing, and there are beautiful things
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| If you know the places they hide
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| And the band’s playing tunes that mean nothing to you
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| But you can dance better with the devil you know
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| All along I was taught to keep my head above the water
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| But I might just prefer it below
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| Yes, and maybe the greatest of heroes
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| Inhabit the stories that nobody hears
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| Yes, and maybe these songs that could''ve brought you to life
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| Weren’t allowed to come close to your ears
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| So to hell with the world, I still love you my girl
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| You''ve been crazy to stay by my side
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| So let’s stand and let’s sing, and there are beautiful things
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| If you know the places they hide
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| And they’ll hide from you darling, they will
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| Far away from the changing regimes
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| There’s a light, there’s a right, tonight isn''t as dark as it seems
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| So when victory comes at too heavy a price
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| Well, there’s honor in choosing defeat
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| Like the boy who was given the keys to the world
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| And decided to sleep in the street
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| So to hell with the world, oh, I still love you my girl
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| You''ve been crazy to stay by my side
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| So let’s stand and let’s sing, and there are these beautiful things
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| If you know the places they hide… |