| '30 years ago, society believed that no price was to high, we thought that
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| industry could come at any cost. |
| We cannot afford to pay that price any
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| more.'
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| So finally my journey ends
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| And through this wound my soul can mend
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| Guilt is my blood
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| I’m being drained
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| This is my home, I will stay…
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| …inside!
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| There’s always someone inside
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| Fighting to get outside
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| The «knowing-right-from-wrong side»
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| Our home is inside!
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| I’ve travelled the world around
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| In search for some Grail of mine
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| How could I be so blind?
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| It was always here: inside
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| I have only some weeks to give
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| But at last… I live
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| Life’s just a line of situations
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| A matter of occasions
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| And mystic correlations
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| The work of a Machine!
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| Here in a world split to nations
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| We fail to see the relations
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| Between the Wheel and the Machine
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| And of the scars we’re leaving…
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| …inside!
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| I swear there’s someone inside
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| Fighting to get outside
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| Just give it all an hour
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| By the Concrete Lake!
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| 'I dread the day my children will ask me why. |
| I dread the day when I will
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| have to explain to them that people thought it was acceptable to destroy
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| the environment so that we could have jobs. |
| I dread the day I will have to explain to my bright-eyed Joshua, who talks to dogs and listens to the
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| grass screaming, that we were all to busy driving fast cars, rushing our
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| children off to day-care, and finding seniors' homes to our grandparents
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| and listening to the ringing of cash registers.
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| We were all too busy to hear the grass screaming.' |