Laugh in the face of death under masthead.
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Hold your breath through late breaking disasters,
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Next to news of the trite.
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And the codes
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And the feelings that meant to be noble
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Like coke in the nose of the nobles
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Keeps it alight.
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And the wrath
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And the riots
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And the races on fire
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And the music for tanks with no red lights in sight.
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Got you
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Cryin'
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Cryin'
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Oh whyin'
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Oh my my my
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Gold is another word for culture.
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Leads to fattening
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Of the vultures
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Till this bird can barely fly.
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And Mary and David smoke dung in the trenches
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While Zion's behaviour never gets mentioned.
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The writings
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On your wall
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And the blood on the cradle
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And the ashes you wade through
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Got you callin' God's name in vain
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Leaved the damned to damn it all!
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It's got you
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Cryin'
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Cryin'
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Oh whyin'
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Oh my my my
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Broken nose, coloured glasses
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Can't see for the thorns
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And you just can't stand no more!
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What a clumsy kind of low
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Time to take the wheel and the road
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From the masters
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Take this car, drive it straight into the wall
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Build it back up from the floor.
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And stop our
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Cryin'
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Cryin'
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Oh whyin'
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Oh my my my
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Our cryin'
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Our cryin'
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Our cryin'
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Still you try, try, try
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-----------------
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Crying
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TV On The Radio |