| The cops put a black boy in back of the car
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| The pretty people watching as they strut into the bar
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| They’re saying «get away»
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| There ain’t nothing here to see
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| «Stay away, you wanna join him in the seat?»
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| And all the children in the street with nothing to protest
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| Ain’t it funny?
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| They’ve all gone to bed with you my love
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| What a fine way to spend your money
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| And they’re singing
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| Have you got it all figured out?
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| Or do you still doubt yourself, when you’re alone?
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| Have you got it all figured out?
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| Or do you still doubt yourself, when you’re alone?
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| The thief terrorize in disguise all the time
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| Seven days a week in the cubicle confines
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| And everyday, the kids crawl up and fall away
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| They just say, «there ain’t nothing we can change»
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| But six flights down and around the town
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| Talking to a lady with a dreadlock baby
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| She said, «bring the war home
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| This is my great grandson and I’m alone,
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| You get why I’m angry?»
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| 'Cause all the kids, they just pass me by
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| I sit alone and I wonder why
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| I’m black and blue
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| And how about you?
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| Have you got it all figured out?
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| Or do you still doubt yourself, when you’re alone?
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| (When you’re taking all your money, prescription at the drugstore)
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| Have you got it all figured out?
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| Or do you still doubt yourself, when you’re alone? |