| Sleeping at night in a plaster board box
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| Scratching the earth with the nails on my fingers
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| And the ground pukes up rocks and rocks and more rocks
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| And when the seeds finally reach the ground
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| It’s all been for nothing
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| I hear the cries of children at night
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| I watch their faces grow sallow with hunger
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| Who draws the line between what’s wrong and right
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| And when I ask what my life is for
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| It’s all been for nothing
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| Save your regrets for the dead, but for the living
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| Give them love and give them bread
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| One more hungry mouth to be fed
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| Remember the living
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| Give them love, give them bread
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| Standing in the light of the kitchen screen door
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| Like some kind of untouchable stuck in Calcutta
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| I almost forget what I’m standing here for
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| And I don’t know what to do but I know
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| I won’t leave with nothing
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| Where are the days when life was carefree
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| Why must I suffer this, what was my crime
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| Begging or thievery, which shall it be
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| Is there no other choice for me
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| I can’t live with nothing
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| Save your regrets for the dead, but for the living
|
| Give them love, give them bread
|
| One more hungry mouth to be fed
|
| Remember the living
|
| Give them love, give them bread
|
| Yeah, justice only comes to the dead, but for the living
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| Give them love, give them bread
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| Tell them one more hungry mouth to be fed
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| Remember the living
|
| Give them love, give them bread
|
| I hear the cries of the children at night
|
| I watch their faces grow sallow with hunger
|
| Who draws the line between what’s wrong and right
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| When they ask me what life is for
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| I must give them something |