| A child ran through the meadow on a sun drenched summer day
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| And then he stopped his play
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| And kneeled in a field of poppies
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| A man walked through my ghetto on a humid summer day
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| And then he stopped to pay and he dealed in a field of poppies
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| Oh, flower of forgetfulness, just an hour away to the moon
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| Take a deep breath if you are reaching for truth
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| While you’re in the stupor
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| The door knocks and death takes another youth
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| Poppies, red poppies…, red poppies…
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| A boy I used to know, a boy I used to know who’s laughter rang to the skies
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| Was a joy to behold
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| Then I looked into his eyes, a look so cold, a boy who (rose on (???sorry))
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| In a field of poppies
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| Poppies, red poppies, red poppies, red poppies…, red poppies…,
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| Red poppies…, red poppies…, red poppies…, red poppies…, |