| Misunderstood by all but a few
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| You hope to overcome the demons chasing you
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| Tempted to give in and weary from the chase
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| The conflict in your soul shows in lines on your face
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| Telling of a tale that only you believe
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| To others who in pity watch
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| But soon will turn their backs and leave
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| Too many there’s no hope
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| Except survive against the cruel world
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| Disown the cause of all the problems
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| They’re your children soon forgotten
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| Reminded of the things
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| That no one likes to think about
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| By poor, downtrodden people
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| Living in discarded waste
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| Go home to barred and shuttered windows
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| Keep the thieves and beggars out
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| Trapped by fear inside a fortress
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| Built by your own hands of hate
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| Nothing for those outside the circle of society
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| So lock the door and cock the rifle
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| Sitting, waiting, patiently
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| Looking for a moving target
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| In this wind blown no man’s land
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| That once was home to all your children
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| Who left escaping prison’s bars
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| They now are part of those outside
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| And hated from behind closed doors
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| The parents who once loved them
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| Care not if they see the cause
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| Won’t admit that they are still alive
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| Life seems hopeless is it just us? |