| It seems strange to write about these things now
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| But the time has probably come when we should
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| Accept whatever is past and gone and never will return
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| Looking back to the beginning
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| I see a flood of painful memories
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| And the bitter hurt and wounded pride that comes with our defeat
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| We set out with our heads held high
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| So sure our ground, our righteousness
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| The new Jerusalem to be built with love and guts and truth
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| But in the end we surrendered easily
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| It’s no use pretending otherwise. |
| .
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| Well most of us had a little something to lose, enough to break our nerve
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| Well, some of us made an easy peace and moved into the Brave New World;
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| It’s hard for the true believers to look back now and realise
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| That for many of the crowd it was just the fashion, the cause of the moment
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| Well we if anyone should know that you can look pretty dumb
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| Standing in last year’s clothes
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| And some of us, shell-shocked still, ran for shelter and do the rituals
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| The same old way pretending that someone out there cares
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| And some of us live in the modern world
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| We give unto Caesar what is due
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| And harbour the bitterness of defeat and daydreams of revenge
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| Now nothing you see out there is real
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| It matters not what you believe in
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| It matters less what you say but only what you are
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| It matters what you are. |
| It matters what you are |