| I used to pray every night when I was younger
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| On my knees, folding hands for my mother
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| And my mother used to say when she was younger
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| She used to go to bed filled with hunger
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| The same hunger got her working even harder
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| Got her travelling to Norway from Ghana
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| She said «my son, we’re blessed, now let’s say Our Father»
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| Ups and downs, that’s how life go
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| What’s high if you don’t know low?
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| So I try not to complain
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| Appreciate life so I keep saying
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| Another day goes by, another day goes by
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| And I thank God that I’m alive
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| I think I was about ten years old
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| Watching the news with my dad
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| I didn’t see nothing but tears and blood
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| And a bunch of people looking so mad
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| «That's war», I was told
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| I said «how? |
| that ain’t nothing like the games I have»
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| I couldn’t grasp the sense of an innocent child
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| Dying by the hands of a grown man
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| And while some kids raised on cartoons
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| Young girls making money in dark rooms
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| We all deserve a decent meal
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| Why his belly so soft? |
| Why she holding that hard spoon?
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| And where is my head of state?
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| If crime pays, talk peace, still engaging in heavy arms trade
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| In the jungle that we call Sin City
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| While life rules, survival of the fittest
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| Another day goes by, another day goes by
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| And I thank God that I’m alive
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| Oh, oh, oh, oh
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| Oh yeah, yeah
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| Why, why, why, why
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| Yeah
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| Eh, eh, eh, eh
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| Thank God that I’m alive |