| Could we all be dreaming
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| Of the suffering forming clouds on our feelings
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| Could the wars be in our heads
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| Could our children be safe in their beds
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| Oh, where will I be when I wake up?
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| Oh, will I be returning home
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| Or to the questions burning a hole
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| In my heart that is turning to stone
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| When I wake up where will I return?
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| Could this be our punishment?
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| The floods and fires, the bombs and liars
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| For our Mother’s discontent
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| Could production be a slave?
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| To the devil on a full rampage
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| Oh where will I be when I wake up?
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| Oh, will I be returning home
|
| Or to the questions burning a hole
|
| In my heart that is turning to stone
|
| When I wake up where will I return?
|
| Where will I return?
|
| Oh, will I be returning home
|
| Or to the questions burning a hole
|
| In my heart that is turning to stone
|
| When I wake up where will I return? |