| Lately I’ve been losing all my faith in humanity
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| And to think I am a part of it’s embarrassing
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| I read the paper and I keep up with the news
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| I can’t recognise what we do as even human
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| It’s out of wack, out of balance, out of control
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| The lies told and the attitude that unfold
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| This fucking country has a rotten bitter hard soul
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| These are laws of the land that the Crown stole
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| I hear them talk, talk, talking on the radio
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| They spit fever pitch panic on what they oppose
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| I read the columns, the letters and opinion pieces
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| At every pub everybody’s got prepared speeches
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| Misunderstanding all the pain in the politics
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| They only want a scapegoat and kept promises
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| And all the anger and the fear and resentment grows
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| The brutality of lucky country village folk
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| It’s not enough to turn back a bunch of leaky boats
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| It’s not enough to kill their dreams then we kill their hope
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| It’s not enough to deprive them of their human rights
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| It’s not enough, until somebody lose their life
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| Dark shadows gather history will judge us hard
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| One day you’ll ask yourself «did I do enough?»
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| And how much cruelty did we allow to be dealt
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| To a group of desperate people asking for some help
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| How does it sit with you?
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| How do you sleep at night?
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| Does it worry you at all occupy your mind?
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| I hang my head, heavy heart, I am so ashamed
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| It’s in my backyard, but not in my name
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| The journalists gather, the cameras click clack
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| And at the podium the speaker’s putting on his act
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| He talks in double speak, Orwellian reports
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| Empty words but his body language says it all
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| His hands are outstretched, now his arms are crossed
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| His white face sweats bullets and he nods a lot
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| Official press release, massive fact omissions
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| The purpose so clear — dehumanise the victims
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| Appoint an expert, launch enquiries
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| Pass the buck, obfuscation by any means
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| He answers all the questions with the party line
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| Repeats the focus group emotion heavy catch cries
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| He knows his audience, and how to handle them
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| Talk tough, keep it simple, act the larrikin
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| Make them think that your one of them just like a mate
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| Repeat the sentiment — «ain't this fucking country great»
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| Now he’s hit his stride, he’s got them hypnotised
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| Convince them there’s a threat to their very way of life
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| And now the lights fade and he walks away
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| He played it perfectly to keep the power one more day
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| [How does it sit with you?
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| How do you sleep at night?
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| Does it worry you at all are you dead inside?
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| I hang my head, heavy heart, I am so ashamed
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| It’s in my backyard, but not in my name]
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| The sun beats down hot upon a prison camp
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| A family huddles in a tent with no ceiling fan
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| The days roll in to each other in the worst way
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| A young boy celebrates his 9th birthday
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| At night he hears people weeping it’s a common sound
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| He’s used to to seeing things he saw his sister drown
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| He wonders if it’s real, he wonders who to trust
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| His mum and dad are like ghosts they don’t talk too much
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| He kicks a soccer ball in an empty field
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| One of the guards kicks it back and compliments his skill
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| The boy tells the guard «I turned nine today»
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| The guard smiles, stops, then he looks away
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| He says «Little man one day I hope you understand
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| When you’re older and your dignity is still intact
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| And you look back at this vicious treatment
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| Not all were complicit, not all were indecent»
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| [How does it sit with you?
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| How do you sleep at night?
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| Does it worry you at do you sympathise?
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| I hang my head, heavy heart, I am so ashamed
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| It’s in my backyard, but not in my name
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| Not in my name
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| Not in my name
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| Not in my name!] |