| Out damned spot!
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| Out I say!", overseeing the damage we create.
|
| Stuck the knife to the hilt.
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| Now I’m the one who bares the guilt.
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| Just a bard in hero’s dress.
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| Sing the songs, life’s a mess.
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| A fib everytime I say I’m free.
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| War is over, battle’s done.
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| We’re brokenhearted and evil won.
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| Lick our wound to satiate.
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| An overwhelming urge to retaliate.
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| Heads down, hides the shame.
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| Of a reluctant agent of change.
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| We’ll carry the burden for eternity.
|
| With ashen faces and extended fingers.
|
| We point the blame for what’s been done.
|
| But with mouths agape we find a way to sing along.
|
| With reddened faces and pointed fingers.
|
| We express disdain at what’s been done.
|
| Yet we all know the words to sing along to the songs.
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| The better days that we extol.
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| Were wasted away by youthful fools.
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| We ushered in all that corrupts.
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| Now we’re drowning in the glut.
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| Are or dreams worth anymore than the ones that came before?
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| Why can’t we accept the responsibility?
|
| With ashen faces and extended fingers.
|
| We point the blame for what’s been done.
|
| But with mouth agapes we find a way to sing along.
|
| With reddened faces and pointed fingers.
|
| We express disdain at what’s been done.
|
| Yet we all know the words to sing along the songs.
|
| For a second I figured it out, but it fell apart.
|
| For a second I thought it out, but it fell apart.
|
| For a second that it all made sense, but it fell apart.
|
| For a second I made peace with it, but it fell apart.
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| Why should I be any special?
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| Why shouldn’t I feel conflicted?
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| Why should I be any different?
|
| This after all is what we inflicted?
|
| With ashen faces and extended fingers.
|
| We point the blame for what’s been done.
|
| But with mouths agape we find a way to sing along.
|
| With reddened faces and pointed fingers.
|
| We express disdain at what’s been done.
|
| Yet we all know the words to sing along the songs. |