| Little boy solider Tommy Gun
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| He’d kill to play «peace keeper man»
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| It’s a little game he learned from dad
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| His daddy was a «peace keeper» in Iraq
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| Pretending he’s off solidering, in a distant far off land
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| He cocks his gun, he shoots you down
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Teaching the children to murder
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| Sunday morning, off to church
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| A red faced preacher sweating words
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| This fat old fuck goes on and on
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| Tommy learned a special lesson
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| «Thou shall love they neighbor
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| And thou shall never kill
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| Void in name in cash»
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Teaching the children to murder
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| You’re going to dream tonight little boy
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| And in that nightmare you’re going to wake up to think…
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| That’s when you’ll get it
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| They punish anyone, don’t you know
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| That shows any sign of understanding
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| More than their rhetoric
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| Just like his dad, and his dad’s dad before him
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| Tommy went off to fight in a war
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| And protect his people from an inhumane race
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| From an out of sight threat, in a far away place
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| And just before Tommy got shot down, he stopped to think
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| To ask himself, «Are their armies also made up of their poor?»
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Murder again, and again, and again
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| Teaching the children to murder |