Talk lives, not numbers
We're still here when you're looking down
Same skills, your brothers
You can't drop a whole town
Take it all with your bill-lined gloves
Don't worry about your people
Let them burn to the ground
All so you can stick around
All the guts
No glory
Same skills
All the guts
No glory
We don't make the story
To say that pride makes you sick,
Makes you the one with doubt.
The one with the worn out mind
Not one with the times.

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