People Like

It is the way of the people, people like you, people like me. It is the way of the people, to want whatever they see. It is the way of the people, people like you, people like me. It is the way of the people, to take whatever they please. It is the way of the people, people like you, people like me. It is the way of the people, to keep whatever they seize. How many, many people called this sad land their own? How many, many people lost this land they called home? People like you, people like me, pushed again, lost again, wandering free. It is the way of the people, taking from those who came before. It is the way of the people, to want and want and forever want more. People like you, people like me, taking from you, taking from me. Taking dreams, scattering bones of people like you, people like me, without life, without homes. Torn asunder, left to wonder by people like you, people like me. The world spins out another people like you, people like me, to drive and push away people like you, people like me. Thus it has been, thus it is, for people like you, people like me. Must it always be?