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My name is hope, now when I’m on the mic I know you cope. No anecdotes no hidden quotes, feel my love in the poems you wrote. Words to be heard, words to heal scars, words that are near, words from the heart. I drink alone in empty bars. Without words there’s no negotiation. I tell you I’m a poet, words come from my frustration. Just like a time to understand, a time for every woman, a time for every man, words do what words can. Words will find you, words will guide you. Words do what what words can. Now when you turn to face the crowd, do you believe you’re found? What’s going to happen to me? Is this the way life’s meant to be? Where is the warmth, where is the love, where’s all those things we dream of? I have freedom, what’s freedom’s use? Now we have got to tell the truth, we find our faith in something close. The hypocrites of politics, they filled our heads so full of lies. They promised us the miracles, they failed to show the signs. The government say they’ll help you, that’s far from the truth. They’ll always be the first ones to criticise the youth. Now if I draw your attention, would you colour it in for me? Show me your visions, show me your dreams. False flags, body bags. The TV crews with points of view, distort the facts and so do you; if that’s what you believe. I tell you it’s always been the same, we live for tomorrow, we forget about today. The good book says you could change everything, you could even change your mind. It’s always been the same, even when you know you’re right. They could put you in an empty room, with a stranger that becomes your life, and when this time becomes every time; do you really need to ask me why? We are the oppressed, we are the accused, we are the great divide. I tell you I take what’s mine, and when this time becomes every time, do you really need to ask me why? When all you say comes back to me, trapped in the lost and found. We are the oppressed, we are the accused. Never alone on fallen ground. Reality is where we stand, where we stand side by side. Reality is where we live and from where we stand, we rise. Now you call us the activists, your red tape tied around our wrists. You follow us, sky policeman, the Pegasus. New world new war, again and before. Do we really need to even the score? For pipelines of oil, you’re like junkies to the foil.

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