It's not the sky that is overcast with clouds
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It's not thunder, not a hurricane in the middle of a clear sky
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The filthy gallery has been squandered
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The ill-fated majors
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Everyone walks here, important and dignified
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And their fingers are bound with gold and silver
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Day and night, their bag-bags are stuffed
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In them, the goods are heaps of the most diverse,
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And the goods are not simple, but overseas,
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And things are not simple, but major,
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And the eyes and teeth of a predatory wolf
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Business nobles
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Children well-fed fat parents
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The raven will peck out your greedy little eyes
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If only the native child did not cry
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If only the native child was satisfied
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It's not the ringing from the bell towers
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It’s not the foliage that rustles yellowed
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I only hear groans and rustles in the deaf night
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This money flows like a muddy river
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Let sweat, black and dirty
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If only there were tears in three streams - it would be of no use They took off the duds - now everyone has new shirts
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Just forgot to go to the bath
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Children well-fed fat parents
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The raven will peck out your greedy little eyes
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If only the native child did not cry
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If only the native child was satisfied
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Who has something, so they are mad with fat
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In taverns they drink vodka, have fun
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With your slutty girls
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With your toadies
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With your business friends
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Yes with your dirty money
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It's not the sky that is overcast with clouds
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It's not thunder, not a hurricane in the middle of a clear sky
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The filthy gallery has been squandered |