| Dead dreams, dead dreams fly flags
|
| Flapping in the breeze, wave your colored rags
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| Hard times, were they ever any better
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| Maybe never ever
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| The slogan will take you like lemmings to the cliff
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| You’ll feel better than ever, and into the abyss
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| Ha! |
| Ha! |
| Haha!
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| Hard times were they ever any better
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| Every crack every crevice will be sanitised
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| There’ll be no more war there’ll be no more choice
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| And those behind you — Should go live elsewhere
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| Spies everywhere — You put the poison in the air
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| Hard times, were they ever any better
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| Maybe never ever
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| The words cry for help — But the music says, no
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| Every sentence a siege of national pride
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| Hard times, were they ever any better, maybe
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| And I — I won’t answer the call
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| I don’t like khaki, I won’t wear your uniform
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| There’ll be no more war, there’ll be no more choice
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| There’ll be no more war, there’ll be no more choice
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| Hard times were they ever any better |