| Through the best of times,
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| Through the worst of times,
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| Through Nixon and through Bush,
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| Do you remember '36?
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| We went our seperate ways.
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| You fought for Stalin.
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| I fought for freedom.
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| You believe in authority.
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| I believe in myself.
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| I’m a molotov cocktail.
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| You’re Dom Perignon.
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| Baby, what’s that confused look in your eyes?
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| What I’m trying to say is that
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| I burn down buildings
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| While you sit on a shelf inside of them.
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| You call the cops
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| On the looters and piethrowers.
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| They call it class war,
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| I call it co-conspirators.
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| 'Cause baby, I’m an anarchist,
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| You’re a spineless liberal.
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| We marched together for the eight-hour day
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| And held hands in the streets of Seattle,
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| But when it came time to throw bricks
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| Through that Starbucks window,
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| You left me all alone.
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| You watched in awe at the red,
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| White, and blue on the fourth of july.
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| While those fireworks were exploding,
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| I was burning that fucker
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| And stringing my black flag high,
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| Eating the peanuts
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| That the parties have tossed you
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| In the back seat of your father’s new Ford.
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| You believe in the ballot,
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| Believe in reform.
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| You have faith in the elephant and jackass,
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| And to you, solidarity’s a four-letter word.
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| We’re all hypocrites,
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| But you’re a patriot.
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| You thought I was only joking
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| When I screamed 'Kill Whitey!'
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| At the top of my lungs
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| At the cops in their cars
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| And the men in their suits.
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| No, I won’t take your hand
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| And marry the State.
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| 'Cause baby, I’m an anarchist,
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| You’re a spineless liberal.
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| We marched together for the eight-hour day
|
| And held hands in the streets of Seattle,
|
| But when it came time to throw bricks
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| Through that Starbucks window,
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| You left me all alone. |