| Another rainy morning mingling at the market
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| Bartering for food for another day
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| Rifle shots ring out behind the crumbling buildings
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| Executions have begun
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| Sprawled in the square are today’s broken bodies
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| Lots to pick clean if you’re first and quick
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| Rifle through their pockets, peel off their clothes
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| To wear or sell when you wash out the blood
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| Run, my little brother
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| Run to the chicken farm
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| Opportunity is calling
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| You might even find a watch
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| Napalm rains no more but war goes on
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| Little brother died playing at the dump today
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| He found a new toy and held it up proud
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| Then it blew him to bits
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| How many more children
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| Will be killed or die at birth?
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| Deformed by Agent Orange
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| In our food chain forever more?
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| This time we’ll buy our way out
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| I’ve got a plan, you wait and see
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| I smuggled you this map
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| In the gash I sliced in my thigh
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| I hope I’m there to join you, love
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| We’re blown to pieces one by one in this camp
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| We crawl shaking through the fields at gunpoint all day
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| To defuse leftover landmines by hand
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| We shiver on the deck and stiffen for the worst
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| If the pirates come around we might as well be dead
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| We’ll be thrown in the sea or butchered if we’re women
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| All in the name of gold
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| One foot in a land we can barely understand
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| Can’t speak the tongue of Yankee hospitality
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| Our kids at school get beat up
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| To the tune of «Boat people, go home»
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| Sliced with a machete
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| From the breast of our homeland
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| Our new world tries to spit us out
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| But it sure beats the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm
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| We’re going down to the chicken farm |