| There’s a town, just a little town
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| Raining cloud, a hollow sound
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| When our lover gather round
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| And if they’re cold
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| Then they’re cold
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| Feed them wine, feed them chrome
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| We hate this place here
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| It’s our home, It’s our home
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| And your car-collapsing trees and I
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| Could turn them back to sound
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| With the torches in our hands we will reduce it
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| To the ground
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| I stood outside in the bright black night
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| Beneath their buzzing power lines
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| And I saw a number in the sky, in the sky
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| And if there’s a God, he’s a little gun
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| And he holds you closely inside these walls
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| But he hates his babies most of all
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| And your car-collapsing trees and I
|
| Could turn them back to sound
|
| With our torches in our hands we will reduce it to the ground
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| In the parliament there’s a little
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| Hands that are reaching out
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| You can try and try and try but baby there’s no way around
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| Sing Captain
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| Sing out loud
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| Sing, but we’re bound
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| Bound
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| Sing Captain
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| Sing out loud
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| Sing Captain
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| We’re Bound |