Red rivers wash away
Like the useless vote
A blind eye is turned
In plight of the scripts
To justify the score
Like the useless vote
A blind eye is turned
In plight of the scripts
To justify the score
Blood is on all of our hands
And down upon the scorched lands
They are all bleachin' bones
Hands on the frontline
Conscience left t home
Laced with guilt but
Only to those in the know
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