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I grew up in a ghetto That was only one house wide With smiling suburbs all around And poverty inside The oldest of an army That the church was proud to claim And on the brink of womanhood I almost lost my name And I was Chorus: Quivering in my fever-life Wishing that I was dead Suddenly realizing they were Talking over my head Learning to speak their double-talk Facing each day with dread Waiting waiting waiting waiting Waiting for that first smear of red For God was my delirium and sisterhood my goal But my church began to wonder If the commies had a soul And the day I saw a bishop With an M-1 in his hand Was the last day of my life Beneath hypocrisy
HATA BİLDİR
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