| Well you can tell by the way I move my feet
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| that I’m a genuine insurrectionary
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| It’s a kinda nervous shuffle that contrasts so well
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| with bolsavic bravado
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| and you can tell by the way i raise my hand
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| not in a fist but a question
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| take out your manifestos and then put them away
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| I implore you to ignore every word I say
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| if my position as a figure on a stage implies authority
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| I hope my caution and my age belies
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| my humility and will to take my rage
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| and try to turn myself into a
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| one man land slide!
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| Let’s kick it off with a leafleting campaign
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| and follow it up with some public meetings
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| pressing flesh and kissing babies as I smile and promise
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| things are getting better
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| I am the party!
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| the apperatchik and the grey bureaocracy
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| I am the secret police
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| manufacturing a consitiuency that doesn’t answer back!
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| I found these words
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| in my bedroom
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| underneath, old magaznies
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| and I found this voice
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| in my record collection
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| distorting tapes kept analysis awake
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| you found this song
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| but you didn’t question
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| swallod the sleeve but did not see my tongue inside my cheek!
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| I am the polit-bureau
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| I am the velvet revolution
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| it’s a budapest kick on a fifty six and so!
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| lets all go hand in hand to the local polling station and vote for ourselves
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| vote for ourselves! |