| Beneath the marbled halls of Pretoria
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| There’s the faintest sound rising from the underground
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| Behind the prison walls poets fantasize
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| Voices lost are found captive in the underground
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| The dream is still alive, immune to their commands
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| Bravery abounds steadfast in the underground
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| Until the day arrives, children understand
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| Father’s safe and sound living in the underground
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| Look to the days ahead
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| Gather your prayers like roses
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| Think of the life that waits after the battle’s over
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| Look to the land beyond you
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| Out where the fields are golden
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| There will be gifts untold, yes after the battle’s over
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| If I should not return, know that you are my pleasure
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| Shelter yourselves, my treasures, until the battle’s over
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| The dream is still alive, immune to their commands
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| We are pound for pound stronger in the underground
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| The longer we survive the less they can withstand
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| Time will turn around over to the underground
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| 10 miles from Soweto under a thorn tree’s branches
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| Shanty will be no longer after the battle’s over
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| Somewhere a breeze is drifting over a blue-green ocean
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| There will be time for beauty after the battle’s over
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| Children, I must be going — cherish your mother’s memory
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| Now turn these words to ashes antes que seja tarde
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| The dream is still alive, immune to their commands
|
| Time will turn around over to the underground
|
| The longer we survive the less they can withstand
|
| Time will turn around over to the underground
|
| Beneath the marbled halls where the power lies
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| There’s the faintest sound rising from the underground
|
| Behind the prison walls poets fantasize
|
| Voices lost are found captive in the underground
|
| The dream is still alive, immune to their commands
|
| Bravery abounds steadfast in the underground
|
| Until the day arrives, children understand
|
| Father’s safe and sound living in the underground |