29 lines
672 B
Plaintext
29 lines
672 B
Plaintext
My native land
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Your picks and shovels
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From dawn till dusk digging,
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And all the hot shrapnel
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You sowed war.
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Do not you just muffled explosions,
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Not just kicked up to the skies.
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Of those fragments could grow
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Long ago, the iron forest.
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Your friends - my friends
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You hid like a mother.
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And so they fell to the ground,
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To never with it does not stand up.
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Not endless roads
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We walked sadly dust.
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And you looked after them sadly,
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My native land!
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For all that you come to know the life,
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That was able to carry through the smoke.
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Thee I low the custom
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I bow bow to the earth.
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Again, from the ashes of the Renaissance,
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Thy rise field,
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My destiny is not defeated,
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My native land! |