He was the poster child of miserable.
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He was in love with colored boy.
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No chance for hope in a land of servitude.
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And now the ghosts of Alexandria
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Hang in the halls like the boys on the oak,
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To remind us that we're only 13 knots away
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From repeating our mistakes.
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No one can see on the inside,
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No one can hear on the outside,
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No one will speak the name to blame.
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The dead sing: "It's not over."
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She was poster child of ritual.
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She was in love with the U.S.A.
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She was from some place but she could not tell us where.
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And now the ghosts of Alexandria
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Labor the field like amber waves of grain,
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To remind us that we are only a minimum wage away
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A bowl of rice a day
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From repeating our mistakes.
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It's not over.
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No one can see on the inside.
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No one can hear on the outside.
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No one will speak the name to blame.
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The dead sing.
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And we watched the summer turn to the autumn of glory.
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The Ghosts Of Alexandria
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