| We live at risk
|
| Not to die free and young;
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| Under the mask of street dust
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| Hiding your face.
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| constant supervision,
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| Strange neighbor, night calls
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| White nights, black funnels,
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| Laughing with grief, celebrating with anguish;
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| My paranoia, please let go!
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| Don't let go, because I'm alone today
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| Among loud words and empty shop windows,
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| I inhale cigarette smoke again
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| At the risk of not dying young.
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| At the risk of not dying young. |
| At the risk of not dying young.
|
| At the risk of not dying young in this country.
|
| At the risk of not dying young. |
| At the risk of not dying young.
|
| At the risk of not dying young in this country.
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| My home is the cenotaph, my city is the grave.
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| The air smells of gunpowder and mothballs.
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| Here are the cries of children and adults, a joyful squeal.
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| We live for centuries waiting for the Messiah,
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| And every day is a celebration of ultra-violence.
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| We are not landing, we are falling down.
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| Don't let go, because I'm alone today
|
| Among loud words and empty shop windows,
|
| I inhale cigarette smoke again
|
| At the risk of not dying young.
|
| At the risk of not dying young. |
| At the risk of not dying young.
|
| At the risk of not dying young in this country.
|
| At the risk of not dying... At the risk of not dying young.
|
| At the risk of not dying young.
|
| At the risk of not dying young in this country.
|
| At the risk of not dying young. |
| At the risk of not dying young.
|
| At the risk of not dying young in this country. |