| There is truth beneath the floorboards;
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| there is hope in brick and stone.
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| But they tell me just to shut my mouth;
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| leave well enough alone.
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| But I think maybe all that’s needed,
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| is a match and gasoline;
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| because I don’t think that any one of them believes that there will be a reckoning.
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| But I will see this city burn.
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| There are still good shepherds scattered,
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| but they’re far between and few.
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| And the sheep’s skin that the wolves all wear is so thin I see right through.
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| And I think maybe all that’s need is some gas and open flame,
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| because I don’t think that any one of them believes that fire can erase their
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| names.
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| But I will see this city burn.
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| I said I will see this city burn.
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| We will burn it down and build it again,
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| what was buried in flame.
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| Burn it down and build it again from the bricks that remain.
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| I love this city, but I’ve set and numbered its days.
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| I love this city, enough that I’ll set it ABLAZE.
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| There is truth beneath the floorboards;
|
| there is hope in brick and stone.
|
| But they tell me just to shut my mouth;
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| leave well enough alone.
|
| But I think that maybe all that’s needed is some flint and hardened steel;
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| because I don’t think that any one of them believes that the revolution’s real.
|
| We will burn it down and build it again,
|
| what was buried in flame.
|
| Burn it down and build it again from the bricks that remain.
|
| I love this city, but I’ve set and numbered its days.
|
| I love this city, enough that I’ll set it ABLAZE.
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| It will burn. |