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Killing Ground

de Funker Vogt

They do the things all soldiers do
While they're waiting to die
Writing letters to their friends
That will never be delivered

They have dreams about escaping
Getting away underneath the fence
And being, once more reunited
With their families and friends

Sitting calmly in the barracks
From where they watch the guards
Standing at the maingate
Smoking and playing cards

But this remains just wishful thinking
Deep inside they all know
There's no escape from this place
A dead end is as far as they can go

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