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Mama always told me.
Everyone had hope.
From the lowest of the peasants.
Even in the pope.
I believed her for a while.
Then my thoughts started to turn.
You can only have the hope.
If you've got the cash to burn.
Freedom isn't free.
Hope is a lie.
Its all just fake.
Put in the public's eye.
No one believes me.
Forget what my Mama said.
I hope you'll soon believe me.
Oh well, you'll believe me when a bullet's in my head.
- by Bmh The Master |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 06/20/2009 |
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