| They’re walking heavy to the beat of a broken drum
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| Digging for worth in a land under a foreign sun
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| Their children call, bitter words of a strange tongue
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| Hearts down, they’re walking heavy till the dying’s done
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| I see their hands, some hold the bottle, some hold back
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| And in their eyes, a wave of light in a sea of black
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| Their voices low, trembling for blood to drink
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| Would they know, of a deep that cries to the deep
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| In the night, in the night, they call, yes they call
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| Oh! |
| Hear! |
| the monsters calling home
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| No, they don’t wanna be alone
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| But the closet they keep closed
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| Swallow the key so
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| That nobody, nobody knows how they beat
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| Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
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| They beat their chests to the sounds of their broken hearts
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| Crying wolf under sheep skins reaching out their claws
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| Stomping their feet, never letting up the dust choking up their lungs
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| Told to be a father, growing up into a fatherless
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| Son oh my son, won’t you come, won’t you come
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| Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh |