One more tale, one more child One more mind that's created wild One more blank stare, one more trauma One more psycho/socio drama One more nightmare, one more crime One more craving, one last time One more outcast whose blood runs cold One more victim who won't grow old
So you say we're going nowhere, well I know that's where we've been Still I can't help wondering, can we begin again? I feel so full of questions curiosity and fear But could we grow a little bit? Could we grow a little bit? Can we grow a little bit this year?
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