| I hope the rain holds off just for today
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| I hope it doesn’t rain on your parade
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| Kick up your white heels and wave your flags around
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| Kick up your white heels parading in our town
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| Oh, where is my tribe
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| Oh, where is my tribe
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| All around the side streets, needles look for veins
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| Where bullets found their mark in old rebellions
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| Others stand saluting, saying this is who I am
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| A piece of cloth, a field, an island
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| Oh, where is my tribe
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| Oh, where is my tribe
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| Joyce lies in Zurich, Beckett lies in France
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| What anthem has the tune to their dance
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| Who is my tribe, is it only green
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| Or is it in the rainbow of my dreams
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| Oh, where is my tribe
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| Oh, where is my tribe
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| My tribe is the swallow, flying to be home
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| My tribe is the heron, who never feels alone
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| My tribe is in Pine Ridge, my tribe’s in Alice Springs
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| My tribe is in the heartbeat of all things
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| Home’s a place inside, I take it with me
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| I meet my tribe wherever I may be
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| It’s good to lay your head down outside
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| It’s good to dance around the tribe
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| Oh, where is my tribe… |