Where there were fields,
There are houses,
Crammed like sardines,
In a tin.
There are houses,
Crammed like sardines,
In a tin.
We would play,
Spend our days,
Running with the wind.
Spend our days,
Running with the wind.
Those nights we watched for foxes,
Have been replaced by soulless boxes,
That people live within.
Have been replaced by soulless boxes,
That people live within.
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