| Well bring your old guitar
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| And sit here by me
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| 'Round the heavenly throne
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| Drag out your Oklahoma poetry
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| 'Cause it looks like the war is on
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| And I don’t mean a war for oil
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| Or gold, or trivial things of that kind
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| But I heard the news, the vigilante man
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| Is on the move this time
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| So sing me a song 'bout This Land Is Your Land
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| And fascists bound to lose
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| You were a dreamer, Mr. Guthrie
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| And I was a dreamer too
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| Once I spoke of a love for those who hate
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| It requires effort and strain
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| Vengeance casts a false shadow of justice
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| Which leads to destruction and pain
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| Some say I was a friend to sinners
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| But by now you know it’s true
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| Guess I like sinners better than fascists
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| And I guess that makes me a dreamer too
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| In the year of 1945
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| You saw the killers fall
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| Many fought and died
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| But it’s the innocent ones I most recall
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| Well I’ve been the Savior now for such a long time
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| And I’ve seen it all before
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| You good people better get together
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| Or you ain’t got a chance anymore
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| Now they’re starting up their engine of hate
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| Don’t it make you feel lonesome and blue?
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| Yes I was a dreamer, Mr. Guthrie
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| And you were a dreamer too |