Written by: Ben Harper You're too young to know That you're too young to go There's no freedom to be found Lying face up in the ground Ashes from an unfinished life Are all that's left In a tear-drop-shaped locket Hanging from his mother's chest You whip the back of freedom 'till it bleeds an oil stream Then you sail down upon it In your killing machine Old men who send children Off to die in vain They will hear death's constant whisper Call remember my name Gather 'round the stone
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