When you woke this morning you looked so rocky-eyed,
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Blue and white normally, but strange ringed like that in black.
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It doesn't get much better, your voice can get just ripped up shooting in vain,
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Maybe someone hears what you say, but you're still on your own at night.
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You've got to make such a noise to understand the silence.
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Screaming like a jackass, ringing ears so you can't hear the silence
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Even when it's there - like the wind seen from the window,
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Seeing it, but not being touched by it.
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(We never asked for war, nor in the innocence of our birth were we aware of it.
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We never asked for war, nor in the struggle to realisation did we feel there was a need for it.
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We never asked for war, nor in the joyful colours of our childhood were we conscious of its darkness.)
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HOW DOES IT FEEL?
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How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
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Young boys rest now, cold graves in cold earth.
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How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
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Sunken eyes, lost now; empty sockets in futile death.
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Your arrogance has gutted these bodies of life,
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Your deceit fooled them that it was worth the sacrifice.
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Your lies persuaded people to accept the wasted blood,
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Your filthy pride cleansed you of the doubt you should have had.
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You smile in the face of the death cause you are so proud and vain,
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Your inhumanity stops you from realising the pain
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That you inflicted, you determines, you created, you ordered -
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It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.
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You never wanted peace or solution,
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From the start you lusted after war and destruction.
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Your blood-soaked reason ruled out other choices,
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Your mockery gagged more moderate voices.
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So keen to play your bloody part, so impatient that your war be fought.
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Iron Lady with your stone heart so eager that the lesson be taught
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That you inflicted, you determines, you created, you ordered -
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It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.
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How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
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Young boys rest now, cold graves in cold earth.
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How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
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Sunken eyes, lost now; empty sockets in futile death.
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Throughout our history you and your kind
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Have stolen the young bodies of the living
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To be twisted and torn in filthy war.
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What right have you to defile those birth?
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What right have you to devour that flesh?
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What right to spit on hope with the gory madness
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That you inflicted, you determines, you created, you ordered -
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It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.
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How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
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Young boys rest now, cold graves in cold earth.
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How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
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Sunken eyes, lost now; empty sockets in futile death.
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You accuse us of disrespect for the dead,
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But it was you who slaughtered out of national pride.
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Just how much did you care? What respect did you have
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As you sent those bodies to their communal grave?
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You buried them rough-handed, they'd given you their all,
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That once living flesh defiled in the hell
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That you inflicted, you determines, you created, you ordered -
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It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.
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You use those deaths to achieve your ends still,
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Using the corpses as a moral blackmail.
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You say "Think of what those young men gave"
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As you try to bind us in your living death,
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Yet we do think of them, ice cold and silence
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In the snow covered moorlands, stopped by the violence
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That you inflicted, you determines, you created, you ordered -
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It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.
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How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
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Young boys rest now, cold graves in cold earth.
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How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand death?
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1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - We don't want your fucking war!
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1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - We don't want your fucking war!
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1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - We don't want your fucking war!
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1 - 2 - 3 - 4 You can stop your fucking war!
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How Does It Feel?
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Crass |