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It was the way we always knew that we never had the clue,
That we never had the chance like the others in the dance,

Like black diamonds, ash and light,
Like the mines and anthracite,
Split-tongued fellows, venom-survived,
Violence only against the vile,

E'er we bleed into the wild,
Then laid to rest there, man or child,
This shining gutter in the sun,
Is it worth it in the run.

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