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Rhymes Against the State

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Of course we are moved

That the food has improved.

And: no beggars, no riff-raff,

No petitions, you see,

No jails, no beatings

Just sweet "harmony!"

Who cares if the locals

Are kicked and repressed

So long as the world

Is duly impressed?

When the Olympics are done

We'll be back to square one:


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