| Mid-October, sixty one
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| The French Police were having fun
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| Cutting down Algerians
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| Breaking heads all over town
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| Yet no-one saw and no-one knew
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| No-one dared to speak the truth
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| 200 dead became just two
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| Sweep them in the river
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| The witnesses were run to the ground
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| Put the bastards underground
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| Buried every black in town
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| Who dared to show their face
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| When the stars fall from the sky
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| When the world cannot make me cry
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| That’s when the scales will fall from your eyes
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| And let you see the truth
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| Boipitong in ninety two
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| Subjected to a murder crew
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| Well trained policemen charging through
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| A crowd that’s armed with slogans
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| Yet no-one saw and no help came
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| And no-one wants to take the blame
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| These people that you try to tame
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| Will get round to you later
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| The protesters were run to the ground
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| Put the bastards underground
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| Buried every black in town
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| Who dared to raise his voice
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| Every day around the world
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| The voice of truth cannot be heard
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| Men and women disappear
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| They have to live their life in fear
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| Yet something makes them stand and shout
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| One day they will find you out
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| Dig up every fact in town
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| And shove them in your face |