| These initial shock waves can’t last
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| They’re gonna want to see the real love soon
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| They’re gonna want to see the real bombs in the air
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| They’re gonna want to hear the real songs in their ears
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| They’re gonna burn the flag poles when they find out
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| They’re gonna cry with salty tears
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| They’re gonna call themselves witnesses for the truth
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| They’re gonna speak the broken language of love
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| And all of us kids want
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| The same thing from our lives
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| So come on out now
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| Before we start shooting
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| We’re gonna tear the bars off the windows
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| And our voices will be instruments for the truth
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| Then we’ll probably migrate to the coast line
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| To tangle with the salt in the air
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| Listen to the hush of our babies
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| After all the fighting is through
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| And the evening will come true to all who suffer
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| And the morning come a chance to renew
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| And all of us kids want
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| The same thing from our lives
|
| So come on out now
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| Before we start shooting (repeat) |