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We used to stand in formation in our,
Perfect little rows,
Even though it was hot,
Even though it was painfully fatiguing. We stood in our,
Perfect little rows,
Because it said something about who we were,
And how committed we were to that identity. But in the formation, in those,
Perfect little rows,
There were some among us who realized,
That we were being looked down upon. That there were birds in the sky,
Who wouldn't fight in our wars,
And who looked at us struggling,
Not caring in the least about our efforts.