| This is the street where people live in fear
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| of senseless crime and poverty.
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| And the colour of your skin decides
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| if you should pay the penalty.
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| This is the city where only money talks,
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| of power gain and influence.
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| Where the poor stay poor, the rich stay rich
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| and we’re still told it’s coincidence.
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| it’s the same old sad survival-dance
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| that we’re all born with an equal chance.
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| But who could be so blind that they could never see
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| that this is my land?
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| I can’t pretend that it’s nothing to do with me.
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| And this is your land,
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| you can’t close your eyes to the things you don’t wanna see.
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| This is a country filled with greed and hate
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| and cops on the take are common place.
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| The next generation are condemned to waste
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| by bent politicians and magistrates.
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| This is a world at war for the liquid gold,
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| but there’s still no cure for the common cold.
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| We raise our flags and battle cries
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| in the name of God and national pride.
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| And the lie we use to convince ourselves,
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| it’s not our fault, it can’t be helped.
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| Don’t tell me we’re so blind we cannot see
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| that this is my land!
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| I can’t pretend that it’s nothing to do with me.
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| And this is your land,
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| you can’t close your eyes to this hypocrisy.
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| Yes this is my land,
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| I won’t pretend that it’s nothing to do with me.
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| 'Cause this is our land,
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| we can’t close our eyes to the things we don’t wanna see. |