| Surrounded by hands and faces
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| I’m clutching my baggage and ringing my bell of help
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| I don’t think it will be heard
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| There are too many shuffling feet and shivering teeth
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| The moon’s been gone for hours now
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| And her makeup needs reapplying
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| I wonder who she’s with, or if she needs my help
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| Many a man surround her pockets
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| They only covert what is in her pockets
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| I clutch my luggage and stare fiercely into the wall
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| We are waiting for transportation, me and my luggage
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| A moving mouth has made contact
|
| And the dust it looks friendly now
|
| All the dollars I pay to one phone owning hand
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| Are well earned
|
| It only makes me wonder where they go
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| Or what they do
|
| And what lays beneath the dust
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| Under the eye of untrust
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| The badged and uniform wearing authoritarians
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| They are graced with notes from all sides of the world
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| And they seem to be in charge
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| But then I wouldn’t know
|
| The madness in this city glows
|
| And my comfort in this chaos grows!
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| For we are taken care of well
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| And driven to and from our luxury shell
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| Machine gun man stands by the door, to protect us
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| I like it here, think I’ll come back for more |