| Ration my breath - Terror clandestine in my chest
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| Mangled, I lay on a foreign forest floor
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| Caught in an instant, divided by distance
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| Alone in the fray, clutching my trigger, I pray
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| As I make amends with death on a distant shore
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| Such is the fate of the nation-state
|
| Despite the myths, they propagate
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| The narrative never fits the crime
|
| Democracy’s died this death a thousand times
|
| The masses kneel before the golden cross
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| Held by the priest who bows at the feet of the king
|
| We stand alone in the dust of what could be
|
| Fighting to find our humanity
|
| Bury me with my name in an unmarked grave
|
| Another casualty to the vanity of history
|
| The war marches on after the killing ends
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| Take our lives - colonize our minds
|
| I’ve been digging through timelines, historical bylines;
|
| I find the fatal flaw in our design lies
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| Between thoughts we had and words we knew
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| Between what we’re told and what is true
|
| Who fuels the fascist?
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| A classist— inculcating the masses in passes
|
| Under the contrived
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| Countenance of contrition
|
| The victor writes the story
|
| More often burns the manuscript
|
| Set fire to a pyre cremate the crimes that they commit
|
| But the flames kept us warm
|
| So we bit our tongues and tasted scorn
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| The bitter stench of finite men
|
| Betrayed by the thieves they swore to defend
|
| The bell will toll
|
| And in the end, lay only the echoes of
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| What could have been
|
| We stand alone in the dust of what could be
|
| Fighting to find our humanity
|
| We stand alone in the dust of what could be
|
| Nothing we fought for will set us free
|
| Throw myself, headlong, to the jaws of the beast
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| The war machine that feeds for eternity
|
| Throw myself headlong into the jaws of the beast
|
| The war machine that turns for eternity
|
| Throw myself, headlong, to the jaws of the beast
|
| The war machine that feeds for eternity
|
| Throw myself headlong into the jaws of the beast
|
| The war machine that turns for eternity |