| Well we’ve been holding on for hours hoping that they’d call us back
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| Yeah we were holding on and hoping they would call
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| We sat captive in the flowers with our radios in tact
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| We left our AK-47s near the wall
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| Yeah we were here protecting nations, women, children from invasion —
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| Usually we felt useless above all
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| Every meeting’s a vacation
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| Never made it to the station for an infiltration
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| Yeah, we’re still too small
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| So tell me why can’t we learn to get along?
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| And tell me why are we always on the run?
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| Pretty sure this club is failing, haven’t made the headlines yet
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| So tell me do you know if this invasion’s set?
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| We’ve sat silent in libraries, drunk tanks, traffic jams and attics
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| More than spaceships in the sky above our walls
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| Makes me think they just aren’t coming
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| Wasting time’s better than running
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| That’s what we’ve all told ourselves if just to stall
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| And we’re been holding on for decades hoping that they’d call us back
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| But I just don’t think that that call’s ever gonna come
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| We’ve sat captive in the flowers, picking asscracks, picking boogers
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| And I gotta say, everybody, this ain’t fun
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| Maybe we should think of somewhere else to go?
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| Or maybe I should think about just going solo
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| I’m tired of just waiting, contemplating, masturbating
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| With my brain might be a better way to go |