| When our rivers run dry and our crops cease to grow
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| When our summers grow longer and winters won’t snow
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| From the banks of the ocean and the ice in the hills
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| To the fight in the desert where progress stands still
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| When we’ve lost our will
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| That’s how we’ll know
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| This is not a test, oh no
|
| This is cardiac arrest
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| Of a world too proud to admit our mistakes
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| We’re crashing into the ground as we all fall from grace
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| When the air that we breathe becomes air that we choke
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| When the marsh fever spreads from the swamps to our homes
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| When your home on the range has been torn down and paved
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| And the buffalo roam to a slaughterhouse grave
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| What more will it take
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| For us to know
|
| This is not a test, oh no
|
| This is cardiac arrest
|
| Of a world too proud to admit our mistakes
|
| Kissing the ground as we all fall from grace
|
| This is a chance to set things straight
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| To bend or break the rules back into place
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| There is no middle ground, no compromise
|
| We’ve drawn the line
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| With perfect aim, we stand back and throw
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| Glass windows break and it’s all about to blow
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| Lights go out as we pass the torch again
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| In hope that is stays lit
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| Neutrality means that you don’t really care
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| Cause the struggle goes on even when you’re not there
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| Blind and unaware
|
| That’s how we’ll know
|
| This is not a test, oh no
|
| This is cardiac arrest
|
| Of a world too proud to admit our mistakes
|
| We’re crashing into the ground as we all, yeah we all, all fall from grace |