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It's been ten years or more since we sat daily in the rebellious coffee shop, the three of us, school boys and laughing, full of caffeine and dreams to burst a world
Take a plane to Berlin, buy a ticket to chaos, where anything goes and the rules are absent. The technicolor streets gleam bright as a new-born baby, alert as a toddler,
Long ago, an old man took his possessions And hit the road, counting his blessings, When hearing his future was torn, And sensing that hope was still-born.
One day, my mother said, you will see, That what others want is not what you do, And what you want does not match theirs And when you do, you will know the truth.
Stunted, slouched, contradicted Throughout, while inappropriate Conversations lose their importance Censored are the masses through The endeavours of their masters In those modes we operate,