| I was born lucky they always say
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| I work in these fields of plenty
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| Sweat for the company far away
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| Fruit once sweet now has bitter taste
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| My father he was a union man
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| Very proud and outspoken
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| They came and took him when I was young
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| I will fight 'till his work is done
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| And my children are hungry
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| To taste the sweet life
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| Though my eyes have grown tired
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| Their desire keeps me alive
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| I will gather no more of your bitter fruit
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| I have a sister she loves to dream
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| Now she works right beside me
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| We work the land we can never own
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| Someday we’ll reap what we have sown
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| I don’t look east I don’t look west
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| I don’t understand their accent
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| If it’s not soldiers it’s foreign debt
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| But they haven’t won this one yet
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| Soon from the fields will come fire
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| To cleanse the lies from all sides
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| The flames of freedom grow higher
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| Until desire — is satisfied
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| I will gather no more of your bitter fruit
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| And they want to help in America
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| And the guns they come from America
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| But they fight against us North America
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| Why are the people so quiet in America? |