| Thru the rhythm of darkened times
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| Painted black by knowledge crimes
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| And repetitions pointless mime
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| Instilling values the sick define
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| That keeps the fabric that keeps you blind
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| And ties your hands and cloaks your mind
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| But on my stilts, I’m above the slime
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| Come on up if you can make the climb, but who am I?
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| Who am I? |
| Who am I?
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| I’ve smelled the stench from the fumes that rise
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| From the books that rehash the same old lies
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| I felt the panic that they disguise
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| In the forms of laws of every size
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| I’ve heard the teachers whine and make me drop out like flies
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| But you know they teach you nonsense, cause they can’t blind your eyes
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| I’ve seen the fools gold that they pawn off as their prize
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| To the average standard the norm supplies, but where am I?
|
| Where am I? |
| Where am I?
|
| You’ve gobbled all the blessings they caused you to digest
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| They may be hard to swallow, but they keep your tongue depressed
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| Your scattered whims were born depressed
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| So when something slams your chest
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| You flutter about, you’re sleek distressed
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| And when you stop to ease your breast
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| A scattered rim leaves you obsessed
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| While solid thoughts are soon suppressed, but where are you?
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| Oh, where are you? |
| Hey! |
| Where are you?
|
| Where are you?
|
| Where are you? |