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Me and The Major
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Avin' It!
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Help Save The Youth
Help save the youth of America Help save them from themselves Help save the sun-tanned surfer boys And the Californian girls When the lights go out in the rest of the World What do our cousins say They're playing in the sun and having fun, fun, fun Till Daddy takes the gun away From the Big Church to the Big River And out to the Shining Sea This is the Land of Opportunity And there's a Monkey Trial on TV A nation with their freezers full Are dancing in their seats While outside another nation Is sleeping in the streets Don't tell me the old, old story Tell me the truth this time Is the Man in the Mask or the Indian An enemy or a friend of mine Help save the youth of America Help save the youth of the world Help save the boys in uniform Their mothers and their faithful girls Listen to the voice of the soldier Down in the killing zone Talking about the cost of living And the price of bringing him home They're already shipping the body bags Down by the Rio Grande But you can fight for democracy at home And not in some foreign land And the fate of the great United States Is entwined in the fate of us all And the incident at Tschernobyl proves The world we live in is very small And the cities of Europe have burned before And they may yet burn again And if they do I hope you understand That Washington will burn with them Omaha will burn with them Los Alamos will burn with them Definately hear this ^ Can anyone up it?
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Choose Liverpool. Choose the dole queue. Choose to scam disability benefit. Choose mind-numbing, grinding efficiency over flair. Choose Torben Piechnik, Istvan Kozma and Paul Stewart. Choose not to win a single league title since the backpass rule was implemented. Choose penalties. Choose car stereos, hubcaps and stanley knives. Choose to trade on your proud sense of tradition and then not lift a finger in protest when two American billionaires who don't even know the name of your club decide to buy it. Choose to win the European Cup whilst only having to play seven matches. Choose to bask in a perpetual, sickening, media love-in. Choose celebrities who **** off out of your city as soon as they have earned the money to do so and then spend the rest of their lives harping on about how wonderful it is. Choose to sing about Munich until confronted with your own tragedy. Choose to end it all in an orgy of self pity, just another excuse to perpetuate the grief culture spawned by your selfish, insular ****ed-up excuse for a city. Choose your future. Choose Scouse. |
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