| You don’t know a thing about their lives
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| They live where you wouldn’t dare to drive
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| You shake as you think of how they sleep
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| But you write as if you all lie side by side
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| Reader, meet Author
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| With the hope of hearing sense
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| But you may be feeling let down
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| By the words of defence
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| He says «No-one ever sees me when I cry»
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| You don’t know a thing about their lives
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| Books don’t save them, books aren’t Stanley knives
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| And if a fight broke out here tonight
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| You’d be the first away, because you’re that type
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| And the year 2000 won’t change anyone here
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| As each fabled promise flies so fast
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| You’ll swear it was never there
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| Oh, have you ever escaped from a shipwrecked life?
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| So safely with your software, miles from the front line
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| You hear the way their sad voice sings, and you start to imagine things |