| My generation’s stuck in the mirror
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| «Forget about the poor, 'cause I don’t like the word»
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| I need to know the name of my neighbor
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| I am not known if I’m not seen or heard
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| And I am afraid of that which I do not know
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| So why don’t I just ask your fucking name?
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| Justice just gets buried in a white light
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| I heard there was a time you’d call it shame
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| So put your hands in mine tonight
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| And I will be here
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| When you’re crying out tonight
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| I will be here
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| Your cynicism buys me no more time here
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| Imagine my relief to hit the walls
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| Running from the weight of ancient labels
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| And leaving what identity there was
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| Well, my generation’s stuck in the mirror
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| «Forget about the poor, 'cause I don’t like the word»
|
| And I need to know the name of my neighbor
|
| I am not known if I’m not seen or heard
|
| So put your hands in mine tonight
|
| And I will be here
|
| When you’re crying out tonight
|
| I will be here
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| Let’s raise our hands for a moment
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| And leave it all behind
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| Don’t be afraid for a moment
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| The blind leading the blind
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| So put your hands in mine tonight
|
| And I will be here
|
| When you’re crying out tonight
|
| I will be here |