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Oh, we couldnât have seen ourselves here
In this desperate place made more austere.
And now that itâs all gone to hell, theyâre asking,
âWhatâs there to sell when everyoneâs come off the shelves?â
Canât you feel the unease?
From these âTroubled Statesâ* to the Middle East,
The youth of the world are alive in the streets.
When the bell strikes Four on the trading floor,
(Yes, weâd like some more)
Will freedom ring?
In the scorching streets of the Arab Spring
Tarhir Square sings,
âWill freedom ring?â
Hurt, we yearn
And Iâm not about to roll over.
Iâve felt your feet trampling over.
No, not the tankers, the bankers, dictators or Kingsâ¦
I refuse to believe itâs impossible.
The youth of the world are alive in the streets.
Itâs not the bricks âtheyâ fear, itâs what we think.