| Captured Clandestine,
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| Crawled into the light,
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| Knew he was in for a shoe-in,
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| Just wasn’t to be his night.
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| Dragged out of the frozen Rhine,
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| For the Motherland,
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| and the third reich,
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| always good to be shoe in,
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| when it’s not to be your night,
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| your night.
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| Tred carefully,
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| so carefully,
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| on the drifting ice
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| behind enemy lines,
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| In 1939,
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| for Germany,
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| he sacrificed his life,
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| caught behind enemy lines,
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| in 1939.
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| Kids knee deep in rubble,
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| London urchins grey with dust,
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| Back of fout west in evacuation,
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| the farmers wives greeting pleasant lies,
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| far from the doodblebugs.
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| Nana doll still remembers,
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| leaving town in worn-out shoes,
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| Now she’s back out west,
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| in sheltered accomodation,
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| Homes for the old,
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| where pills aren’t the only blues.
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| Tred carefully,
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| so carefully,
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| on the drifting ice
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| staring blankly into the tv guide,
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| In 2009,
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| oh how it hurts me,
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| I’ve only seen her twice
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| since she went west for the second time
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| since 1939. |