| Tell me a story, settle the cards.
|
| Give me a cause for the foreign wars.
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| Wrap me up in our flag,
|
| And let the bombs fall where they may.
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| Tell me a tale, make the puzzle whole.
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| Give it to the pilgrim without a soul.
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| Sell it to the miner who can’t afford his coal
|
| And may the history factory never close.
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| You can build an army of this rabble yet.
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| You can make a nation from the ashes of the dead. |
| Tell them a story:
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| God blood and glory,
|
| Brew up an enemy:
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| They’re comin' to steal your bread.
|
| And let the bombs fall where they may
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| On faces I don’t see with names I cannot say.
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| For I trust the storyteller with my vote.
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| I, pilgrim was sold a golden soul,
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| Sold a soul, sold his soul.
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| The first thing I remember?
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| Waking up and seeing you there.
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| Comfort like a fire, like an answer to a prayer.
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| Like a beacon in the blackness,
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| Solace from the racket.
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| Take your shears to the briars.
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| Kill the chaors, make it clear.
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| Tell me why the buildings fall and everybody dies.
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| I have so many questions,
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| Just tell me where to sign…
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| And I’ll take up arms and lock all the doors
|
| And I’ll tell them a story 'bout the good guys
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| Of the war, of the war.
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| Tell me a story to help me slip away.
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| I drank up an enemy.
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| So let the bombs rain from our parade
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| And fall where they may. |