Clear the battlefield and let me see
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All the profit from our victory.
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You talk of freedom, starving children fall.
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Are you deaf when you hear the season's call?
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Were you there to watch the earth be scorched?
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Did you stand beside the spectral torch?
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Know the leaves of sorrow turned their face,
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Scattered on the ashes of disgrace.
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Every blade is sharp; the arrows fly
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We're the victims of your armies' lie,
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Where the blades of grass and arrows reign
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Then there'll be no sorrow,
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Be no pain.
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Battlefield
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Emerson, Lake & Palmer |