| It’s easy to say, when you’re so down
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| That everything’s pointless;
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| Your eyes burn, your ears howl
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| Your limbs are disjointed
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| Barren fields, the barren earth
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| Never more will it flower
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| Rub your face and your hands in the dirt:
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| Now is the hour!
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| So stand straight, looking over your shoulder;
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| Walk on, though you fear to arrive;
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| Don’t wait till you know that it’s over
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| Be strong — it’s your place to survive
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| While the holocaust rages around you
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| Be the eye of the storm;
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| Though the extent of disaster astounds you
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| Forearmed is forewarned
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| You may have passed time in happier ways
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| But there are other mountains to climb:
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| You’ve never lived as you’re living today —
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| Now is the time!
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| Stand straight, though your back breaks from trying
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| Walk on — even now you must strive
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| Don’t wait — while you’re waiting, you’re dying;
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| Be strong, it’s your place to survive
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| The universe is doubtless
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| Unfolding just exactly as it should
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| And these dreams of remorse or foreboding
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| Just won’t do you any good
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| The joy, the passion, possessions you own
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| The bitterness and the pain
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| The end of everything you’ve ever known…
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| All these are ordained
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| Stand straight looking into the future
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| Walk on — we’ve each got our own lives
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| Don’t wait for a guru or tutor
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| Be strong — it’s your place to survive
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| Stand straight, looking over your shoulder
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| Walk on: though it hurts, you’re alive
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| Don’t wait… if you wait it’s all over;
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| Be strong — it’s your right to survive |