You've got the pen, and we've done the typing. Why can't you get us home for good? Let's put it in writing! On and on, we argue so; the sirens blare and the whistles blow till we cannot hear anymore. This is the score. We've armed a bear - why are we bullfighting? Why do we prance our little flag around as if he's not biting? On and on: We've bled so long, now the waters rise and our libs are gone, and we cannot swim anymore. This is the score. Now on the chase, our colors are falling; two nations removed form where the resistance is calling... On and on, we're fractured now. The families shake, those children howling on and on, no end in sight. No drawdown. No light for any company to see. This is the score. |
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