| Well he’s waiting at the bus stop, seven years old
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| Breathing on his collar in the freezing cold
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| And he doesn’t know a thing about minimum wage
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| But his mother’s gone early and she gets in late
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| And by the time he’s 18 he’s got nobody else
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| But god knows college won’t pay for itself
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| So he traded in scraping for a uniform
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| And I’m starting to see what he’s fighting for
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| Standing on the front line
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| Now he’s waiting on a land mine
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| And maybe there’s a better way
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| Mona Lisa moved up and she moved away
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| From the people she knew, now she works all day
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| For a walk-in closet and a master bed
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| She swore that she’d never be poor again
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| And she can’t stop shopping, she’s so damn bored
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| And I’m starting to see what we’re fighting for
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| Standing on the front line
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| Living in a gold mine
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| And maybe there’s a better way
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| I did some diving on the street today
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| I put my head against a window pane
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| I did some thinking about the way it is
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| I did some thinking about the way we live and
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| I wanna talk about Jesus Christ
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| I wanna talk about living a lie
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| I wanna talk about the Pentagon
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| It doesn’t matter what side your on, well
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| I’m only really trying to figure it out
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| But you can’t hear me cause you talk so loud
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| And maybe there’s a better way
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| Then sending them off to die
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| Then drinking alone tonight
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| Then sending them off to die
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| Maybe there’s a better way
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| Then drinking alone tonight
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| Maybe there’s a better way |