| When Bradley moved back from western Wales
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| His Okie accent still wouldn’t fail
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| Sleeping in his pickup truck, his Soul wouldn’t calm
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| He wrote to his mother, «I'm nobody now, Mom»
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| It’s hard to imagine why bullies dig
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| But Bradley understood it came with the gig
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| He wanted an education with all his will
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| So he walked in and signed up to get that GI bill
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| «I want…»
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| Today, those who got up in Bradley’s face
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| Wish to remain anonymous, in their disgrace
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| They spread rumors around that he wet himself scared
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| Even if that’s true, you know I don’t really care
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| «Recycled» from Iraq and stationed at Fort Drum
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| His boyfriend introduced him to Triskelion
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| He met the hacktivists at MIT
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| «Randomly hung out with some pikans»; |
| «At last, people like me»
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| «I want…»
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| Deployed to Base Hammer, near Iran
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| Built from freight containers and sheer boredom
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| The bullies on the base went in for the kill
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| They said, «We got a saying here: Shit rolls downhill»
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| On leave in Boston, but his boyfriend had flown
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| Bradley wrote him on Facebook: «I have no real home»
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| And before the Builds launch party, he went on to vent:
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| «Bradley Manning is not a piece of equipment»
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| «I want…»
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| While passwords are written on sticky notes
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| And stuck to laptop screens, Bradley explodes
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| Found in a storeroom stabbing a chair
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| Bradley carved, «I want…» with a passion that’s all-too rare
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| Now he’s due to be court-martialed this December
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| To prove bullying is better than a wild temper
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| Now, when we say «I want», we invoke his chair
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| Bradley, know you have friends, though you’re locked in there
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| «I want…» |