| Well we all learned how to use a fork and a knife
|
| How sometimes we have to wear a suit and tie
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| And understand these things are what give us the right
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| To go around the world acting superior
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| We live with missiles and the armaments cache
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| With rewritten histories and a fictional past
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| And though some of us still have questions to ask
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| This ship, she sails without a captain
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| Ch: Goddamn the Master Race that we’re born in
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| Goddamn the howling wolf that we’re serving
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| I’ve had it up to here. |
| .
|
| And the opposition, we ain’t doing so well
|
| Our understanding is weak and our knowledge is small
|
| And though kids scrawl frustration on the back street wall
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| Most of them can’t even spell bastard
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| Ch: Goddamn the Master Race that we’re born in
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| Goddamn the howling wolf that we’re serving
|
| Sometimes all I know is that cold wind blows
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| Down the valley from the mountain snows
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| On these muggy nights I lie awake
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| And wait for the thunder and the skies to break
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| But they are god and they are strong
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| And they can tell the right and wrong
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| And they reclaim the things they own
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| They call us now. |
| .
|
| So Candy please forgive these things that I’ve done
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| When the Master Race calls I know sometimes that I run
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| You mean more to me now than you ever did before
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| As I try to stay away from their clutches
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| Ch: Goddamn the master race that we’re born in
|
| Goddamn the howling wolf that we’re serving |