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Stakes and torches, |
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Scimitars and bayonets, |
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Scythes, pitchforks, |
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A sickle with a sharpened edge. |
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Swords and spades, |
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And mallets that are made of lead. |
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Anything at hand, |
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Anything that can, |
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Help us to remove the head |
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Of that filthy rich, |
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Fat son of a bitch, |
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While he's sleeping in his bed. |
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(Instrumental bridge) |
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Storm the steps, |
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We break into the palace hall. |
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It's so majestic, |
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We are frozen in our awe. |
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Grandmother cries as she crumples to her knees, |
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says, "I can understand, |
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That the rich demand, |
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An amount of luxury. |
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But I'd have never dreamed, |
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It was so extreme, |
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While we had nothing to eat." |