| We look past the obvious
|
| We blind ourselves to the truth
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| No escape, resistance is futile
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| The old roads lead back home
|
| A place where I belong
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| I lay my head where I lay my head
|
| (Affection, redemption)
|
| A clenched fist screaming
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| There’s pain and then there’s living
|
| Both makes sense to those who’re willing
|
| And there’s nothing left to say
|
| We carry on, we carry
|
| (Sacrifice, every single day)
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| To make amends for the debt we pay
|
| (This way)
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| An instrument of constant struggle
|
| There’s nothing left to regret
|
| (A promise is a promise kept)
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| Whether history will forget
|
| (To open up with friendly arms)
|
| This wrench screaming
|
| There’s pain and then there’s living
|
| Both makes sense to those who’re willing
|
| And there’s nothing left to say
|
| We carry on, we carry on
|
| We carry on, we carry
|
| We struggle every single day
|
| Never giving up or giving in
|
| No single sense of self-respect
|
| We turn around and walk away
|
| No sense of community
|
| We fear each and everyday
|
| Behind closed doors and closed minds
|
| We shelter away from our lives
|
| There’s pain and then there’s living
|
| Both makes sense to those who’re willing
|
| And there’s nothing left to say
|
| We carry on, we carry on
|
| We carry on, we carry on |