| Mama Papa It’s cold in here
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| I’m hurt and I’m bleeding and I’m really scared
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| I don’t wanna go back outside
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| Cause the bigboys are waiting and they’ll get me one more time
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| And if we can’t protect the weak
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| How can we call ourselves strong
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| Is the assurance that they seek
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| So beyond us all
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| Help me, someone, is anyone there?
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| This man asked directions and I said I’d help
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| Now I’m tied up and all alone
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| And I don’t think he ever plans to let me
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| Go back home
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| And if we can’t protect the young
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| How can we call ourselves grown
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| They place their trust in anyone
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| Only to lose it all
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| And when it happens we seem so surprised
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| Like we’ve not seen it all before
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| We wring our hands & cry
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| What do they do it for
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| What do they do it for
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| What do they do it for
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| Broken fingers & the phones too far
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| Can’t even think now why I opened the door
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| Robbed and battered I’ve lost all pride
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| There was only enough cash to see that I got by
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| And if we can’t protect the old
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| How can we call ourselves civilized?
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| And is the comfort they deserve
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| So difficult to provide? |