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New Age

The Drunks, Baby

I feel smell of hunger
And the shout of despair
The violence is more a fashion
And everybody wish her...

I feel the shout of pain
Of people that don't have what eat
Cities that shelter monsters...

Is this order?
People killing and dying
Is this progress?
The country under mud

Yeah! Order and progress
An old country 'cause
Of your dead cells