| I was born in the Spring and raised as a child through the years of the great
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| harvest
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| The last of the generation that blew away the prison walls of the past
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| And we celebrated victory over the remains of the old order
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| By blasting into space, into the mountains, into the forests and into the ice
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| We sang songs of love and freedom
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| And we vowed to protect the weak even as they were cast aside
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| For the follies of everlasting youth were to be our new religion
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| For each person’s dream was to be made flesh and the world it was ours
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| As we slashed and we burned and laid waste to it all
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| To the glory and the vanity of rock and roll
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| Saying I want it all now
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| As our children stood and watched us in silence
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| Pray god they’ll forgive us
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| So the seeds planted for the future withered even within our own lifetimes
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| For it was the ties we so hated and destroyed that had made us strong
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| And the walls of every house now echo with that old refrain
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| There must be more money, there must be more money
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| Remember all those songs of love and freedom
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| As if they were the same thing — now we know they were not the same thing
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| They echo in empty beauty down through the boarded-up streets
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| To the sound of closing doors and the locking of the gates
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| As we slashed and we burned and laid waste to it all
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| To the glory and the vanity of rock and roll
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| Saying I want it all, give me more and more
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| As our children stood in silence and watched us
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| And now pray god they’ll forgive us
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| They’ve started filming for the final scenes
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| We’re still becoming what has already been
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| The stolen future and dissolving dream
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| Tomorrow never comes but tomorrow came
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| With the new day sun on our ageing skin
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| As we stand here naked with our children’s hungry eyes upon us
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| Pray god they’ll forgive us |