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Out by a shanty where the dust hangs high
Far from a river where things grow green
The flowers weep and they lean away
From the blood stained soil beneath my feet.
The thorns outnumber the petals on the rose
And the darkness amplifies the sound of printers' ink
On propaganda page
That will rule your life and fuel my rage.
I tried to bend my knees
But my knees were already bent
I haven't stood like a man for such a long time now
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