We call home a town where the river is dammed.
Some days are hot, some nights are cold,
And we drift on hopes without any plans.
We huddle together and call ourselves cool
Beneath the hazy light of a waning moon.
Let it ride as the towers stretch high,
And the houses sprout along the flat out lines.
We'll become what we hate, and we'll never die,
floating lazy on the river that's dammed.
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