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Monseque |
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The ghetto's hungry people cry |
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Food is wasted on the hill |
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Hands stretched upwards to the sky |
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That hill seems high and higher still |
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Summer's gone and winter's near |
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The valley's restless, you can hear |
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Seems lest they batter, burn and kill |
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Till their hungry mouths are filled |
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There'll be no city on the hill |
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There might be time to change the course |
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Let's appoint a meeting place |
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Till hill and valley wears the cross |
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And cleanse each other of disgrace |
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This land's a model of the world |
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That's been a dream that's been ignored |
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But let's take haste and settle bills |
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Till their hungry mouths are filled |
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There'll be no city on the hill (Repeat and fade) |