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Usa A− / A+ para ajustar el tamañoButterfly Boys
They tell us that we're savageswho haven't got a hopeWe're burning in the furnaces,we're choking at the smokeThey say we haven't got a choice,refuse to recognize our voiceYet they enjoy comissionsfrom the proceeds of the jokeThose Butterfly Boysat play with their toysStinging like beesitching like fleasButterfly Boysyou got the toysYou got the breezewe cought the freezeButterfly Boys give us a breakWe got the groceries you got the cakeThey tell us that we're savageswho cannot understandWe're sailing on a sinking ship,we're swimming in the sandThey put their fingers in their ears,refuse to recognize our fearsAnd fly off to Jamaicawhen we call them underhand
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