| I’m singing this song for my sister Sinead
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| Concerning the god awful mess that she made
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| When she told them her truth just as hard as she could
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| Her message profoundly was misunderstood
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| There’s humans entrusted with guarding our gold
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| And humans in charge of the saving of souls
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| And humans responded all over the world
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| Condemning that bald headed brave little girl
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| And maybe she’s crazy and maybe she ain’t
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| But so was Picasso and so were the saints
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| And she’s never been partial to shackles or chains
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| She’s too old for breaking and too young to tame
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| It’s askin' for trouble to stick out your neck
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| In terms of a target a big silhouette
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| But some candles flicker and some candles fade
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| And some burn as true as my sister Sinead
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| And maybe she’s crazy and maybe she ain’t
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| But so was Picasso and so were the saints
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| And she’s never been partial to shackles or chains
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| She’s too old for breaking and too young to tame |