| Down by the river
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| Three sickle mounted souls,
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| Lay wined on the green leaf,
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| Digging their rock 'n' roll,
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| Hey hey, digging their rock 'n' roll.
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| Slashed by the wild geese,
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| The silence it did tear,
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| Sticks swung in violence,
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| You America murdered there
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| Hey hey, young America murdered there.
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| As one soul lay dying,
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| Only two were there to care.
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| On through the valleys,
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| Sad sickle clowns they ride.
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| Pressed tight against morning,
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| Beneath the blackened sky.
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| Hey hey, beneath the blackened sky.
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| There on a hill of gold
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| Wild children play.
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| They bend to pick the flowers.
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| The sun dissolves the day.
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| Hey hey, the sun dissolves the day.
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| If you can’t close one eye,
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| Then turn the other way.
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| Faces bark in anger,
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| With savage bitter words,
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| Twist against the friendship,
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| With rapid shots they’re blurred.
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| Hey hey, with rapid shots they’re blurred.
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| There by the highway
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| Two sickles melt in flames.
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| They burn without the knowledge
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| Of why their lives were claimed,
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| Hey hey, why their lives were claimed.
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| As the smoke drifts skyward
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| We search for those to blame … |