| For the first time
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| After too many years of waiting
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| It’s a fine thing to see working people
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| Stop celebrating
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| The passive state in which they eke out life
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| Accepting strife
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| And gracious for it too We’ve stopped running
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| Mothers and lovers
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| Breaking out of years of passive living
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| Always giving service to the lip of men
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| Who’ve never given them
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| The chance to serve themselves
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| To stand their own
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| And win a world they have a part in
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| And now that’s starting
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| There an’t no stoppin' what we can do
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| Fan this fire
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| An' we’ll be turin' loose
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| Police make crimes of picket lines
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| And the working man
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| He hasn’t got the right
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| To fight to save his living
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| Then is given no choice
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| Once young & old sat tight
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| But now
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| They fight to win a world they have a part in
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| We bought their lies. |
| Now stop! |
| Realize!
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| If we stop running, they can’t chase us!
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| Breaking backs, bones an' brandin' names
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| Is turnin' loose these furious flames
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| Fan the flames an' we’ll be turnin' loose!
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| A world is waiting. |
| Quit waiting too
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| You’ve got to take what they’ll never give you
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| The runnings stopped cos the penny’s dropped
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| Fan these flames an' we’ll be turnin' loose! |