| Your bags are all packed,
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| And you’re not looking back,
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| 'Cause you’re out to find your soul,
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| And that’s your only goal,
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| No desert or plain,
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| No skies who look the same,
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| You burden your disguise on your quest to become wise,
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| Whoa, oh we’re soulsick,
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| We can’t seem to shake it,
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| Whoa, oh let’s have it,
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| I can’t seem to break it,
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| Someone save our ship,
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| I’m sick and tired of this trip,
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| You intoxicate my mind,
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| 'Cause you’re so divine,
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| Seems you can’t breathe,
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| But you know you can’t leave,
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| Your loved ones and they’re just fighting for air,
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| Whoa, oh we’re soulsick,
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| We can’t seem to shake it,
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| Whoa, oh let’s have it,
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| I can’t seem to break it, yeah,
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| If you’ve got a soul to move,
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| Then I want to see you groove,
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| Use your feet and stomp the ground,
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| Let me see you twist and turn around,
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| Each other’s all we’ve got,
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| In this war that’s being fought,
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| It’s our poetry and our cries,
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| Won’t stop them in their lies,
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| I spend all day with poetry,
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| But it took all night to write this,
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| And these reggae beats I’m hearing
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| Give my words, them all them high hits
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| So now that we’re back from the place that we hid,
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| I put my shoes and 'pack right on and cross the street just like a slow kid,
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| Every single fucking day disconnected from the router,
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| But when they bark at me, well then I bark back louder,
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| We’re sick of the intolerance, let freedom commence,
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| I said, «Off with refirmament and down with establishment!»
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| Whoa, oh we’re soulsick,
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| We can’t seem to shake it,
|
| Whoa, oh let’s have it,
|
| I can’t seem to break it,
|
| Whoa, oh we’re soulsick,
|
| We can’t seem to shake it,
|
| Whoa, oh let’s have it,
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| I can’t escape it!
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| Whoa (till end) |