We Are the Fighters Without Reason
We are the fighters without reason
We look for peace, it's vainly, pal,
We cannot cry in any season
There are no bitter tears, we're well.
And sweetest tears like wicked habit
I feel romantica has gone
We are so cynical in debit
We are so proud, we win, we run,
We cannot see so close to ours
some playful lips, and here again
We think a lot for tiresome hours:
How can we heal the woman's pain?
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