| Yes! |
| Yes yes*
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| In a conservative form
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| I wanna ask you a few things before I conform
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| To the popular belief about where I was born
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| Are they still illin', still killin’poppin’the corn?
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| How’s the horn, how’s the love wavin’the ocean morn'?
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| How 'bout the young, do they still possess the poetry tongue?
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| And do they still grief like the depth of the lung?
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| How’s the nomad, did the herd graze well this year?
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| From the news to what I know the growin’gap ain’t clear
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| How’s the earth, how 'bout the stars and the
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| Do you still await on change like a new moon’s birth?
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| Does it still flood ancient wisdom parallel with blur?
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| Do you still see the pain deep?
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| Or did you fight off the plight of the colonized mind?
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| What of the rainy season, do the kids still bury seeds?
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| And get taken with uncertainty like me scared of leavin? |
| '
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| How are the poets, the women and the orphans torn?
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| I miss 'em all like, old opportunities gone
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| What of the elders, story tellers in abandoned homes
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| Miss 'em all like, childhood, reminisceful songs
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| Disputes, do they still settle 'em by bloodying your shoes?
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| Fist rules, rather finger equipped with sick tools
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| What of the wind, I recall it was serenity’s end
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| When the breeze would come and the trees would bend
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| And the people would say «look what it leads with sin».
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| And the air was violent and our care was silent
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| And the only law we was a pair of tyrants
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| Man you know, this is why I’m down in deep indigo
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| And I sleep really poor, on the circumstance floor
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| Anyway, how’s stress, does it still rule your chest?
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| Do still rape baby girls without breasts?
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| How are moms, are they still screaming «put away the arms»?
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| And against the dispossession of their family-owned farms
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| How are the many rivers and the lakes and the seas
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| Are they still angry with us for our poisonous deeds
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| How are the many rivers and the lakes and the seas
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| Are they still angry, at Africa
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| So who’s dead and who’s alive, did the raids multiply?
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| Did the poor fight the draught with their minimum supply?
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| Did the warlords abort the wars and force a part of the peace to pork?
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| To promote disease and easening 'creased divorce?
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| What of police and courts, are they still heatin’forests?
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| Leaking pores and cheatedly to the bleeding corpse
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| What of the kind and good, can they still, laugh intensely
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| Like the, mind and word or is it, innocent slaughters by way the, iron stood
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| And what of the playwrights, reflection in the scapes of great sights
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| Revolution from power’s the writings of brave fights
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| Despite the legendry that you hear we left by
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| I head with refuges and niggers they shit right, and
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| Don’t you play soccer by the ocean front?
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| In America, I shovel the snow while I’m smoking blunts
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| You mean to tell me that you out there still totin’guns?
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| Blow incense of the hardened hardly copin’moms
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| Damn you and circumstance too I can’t stand you
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| You make a mockery of our struggle with plans too
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| And I swear to god I wish you helped back/beck? |
| too
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| And I caressed the Europeans who instigated your words
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| And I curse the Russians who impregnated the they call birth and hurts 'cause
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| you never wake and see the death snake
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| It’s like the conflict of self, submerged in satanic hate
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| Remember walking back and hide from school
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| Bare feet, the hot sand, massaging our feet is
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| 'Cause now my mother slips on the ice and her back is weak.
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| And I feel like a failure, a mute in the age of speech,
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| I said I feel like a failure, a mute in the age of speech,
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| Man I feel like a failure, a mute in the age of speech. |