| Paper warfare in my face
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| Is a bad omen these days
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| My stale cigarettes
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| Smoke haze in my eyes
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| They never stray from the herd
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| When they charge by the word
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| Hopeful interjection will get you nowhere
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| They give the supermarket stare
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| Their response is laissez faire
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| Do they talk starvation in your economics class
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| They label you an alarmist
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| Cause you protest the clinched fist
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| And see a desperate situation for the progress of the poor
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| Spirits fall as batons rise up
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| The weapons budget didn’t get cut
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| What clever wordplay you have
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| Better to speak lies, my lad
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| Blind them with the truth
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| And the lap dogs won’t snap back
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| I know we share in the guilt
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| For the paper shelters we built
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| We’ve been blinded by the fears that we’ve become illiterate
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| It’s a glass slipper that doesn’t slip
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| A square peg that doesn’t fit
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| Your righteous indignation prepackaged postage paid
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| Hope for a tepid response at best
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| As per your silent request
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| See a desperate demonstration as you digress from the point
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| Spirits fall as batons rise up
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| Weapons budget didn’t get cut
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| But my hands did
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| Blood stained pavement
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| They’re asking us to die for something
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| While asking us to live for nothing
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| How is this world so proud
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| Mistakes allowed
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| No lessons learned as we keep on bowing out
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| They’re asking us to die for something
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| While asking us to live for nothing
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| How is this world so proud
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| Mistakes allowed
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| No lessons learned as we keep on bowing out
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| No lessons learned as we keep bowing out |