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When the air that we breathe becomes air that we choke

When the marsh fever spreads from the swamps to our homes
When your home on the range has been torn down and paved
And the buffalo roam to a slaughterhouse grave

What more will it take for us to know
This is not a test
This is cardiac arrest
Of a world too proud to admit our mistakes
Kissing the ground, as we all fall from grace

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