| Birthed in a shadow only true eye can see,
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| Born with its twin, memory
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| Rolling on, rolling down.
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| The queerest thing followed in its wake.
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| Makes me feel like dying, stark naked
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| Rolling down, rolling down.
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| And you don’t know night,
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| You don’t know day
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| You don’t know why you feel this way,
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| And I do somehow, I do somehow.
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| See them folk on the hill — they ain’t no friend of mine.
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| Don’t knock on my door, they ain’t got no time.
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| Ain’t they proud, ain’t they proud?
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| But I swear that I heard this story one time
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| About visions and greatness born to every child
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| Rolling down, tears are rolling down;
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| Rolling down this state of mind.
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| All things being equal — at least in degrees
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| Different, different pedigrees,
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| They’re burning down the streets.
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| Take the burden to the streets.
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| Now that she’s gone do you think we’re all free?
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| Slipping the chains of history?
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| Tears are rolling down, they’re still rolling down.
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| Oh it’s pure and it’s perfect and you know what they say?
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| The good book maketh good men
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| Then they go to their graves.
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| Don’t fear the fight.
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| Don’t you fear the fight.
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| But the loneliness
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| Oh the loneliness
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| Yes, the loneliness is the longest memory
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| It’s the longest memory |