| «Not another protest song about our pitiful past,» I hear you cry.
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| Well hopefully, there’s a
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| Different slant to this one. |
| Anyway, you can make your own mind up on that one
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| Familiar coastlines to unfriendly shores
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| Home was home, no not anymore
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| Kingdom of Summer, written in stone
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| Your brothers and lovers crossed the ocean alone
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| Clearance of land, that was their birthright
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| Moving through hell that and highrights
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| Reluctant journey out of the sun
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| Whatever became of your country’s sons
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| No turning back, not one to run away
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| Fighting more than the elements they say
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| Across to the new, cast from the old
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| What laid before them, what they were told
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| A brave new world, theirs for the taking
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| One more clearance of the land in the making
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| Strike out for the West, bounty, land and liberty
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| To die in the new, for the old it was easy
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| To the native tongues, it was Indian summers
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| Raped on the land, covered with banners
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| Starts and stripes over bullets and blood
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| Chased from the Nations, 'cross Rio Grande mud
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| Two hundred years past, covered wagons gone
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| Taken their place in what progress has borne
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| Of native tongues, old worlds pushed aside
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| Roadside reservations, small wonder little pride |