brass boots, where has your gaunt gown gone?
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whose streets have you walked on?
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who did you meet?
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what did they say?
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is the world just a foxhole you watch from?
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brass boots saw the war we're winning dramatized on leering tv screens,
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brittle moons breaking, giant swans pecking at all the free flesh.
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c'mon, c'mon, let's run to the cracked open sun.
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c'mon, c'mon, lets run to the ten-story gun.
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brass boots saw those trench-eyed preteens spraypainting fangs onto sanitized dreams;
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rich, rich, blackbirds falling asleep in broken bottle hot tubs.
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brass boots saw everybody laughing, saw everybody sleeping;
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and death's grin grown men cleaving million dollar debts from the bank of their own skin.
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c'mon, c'mon, lets run to the cracked open sun.
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c'mon, c'mon, lets run.
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the birds are burning down.
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Street Wars/Exotic Foxholes
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| The Blood Brothers |