These hands could have moved mountains

The community is sick and the community is blind 
And it's colder than Poland and the sun is not shining here
And we're tangled in the shit of each other's ruined affairs
And half of us are faking, and the other half is tired and scared

Please believe in labour and hope and joy
'Cause like a little boy, i have destroyed hope and joy
And lately i dream about angels with molotovs
And nightly they fist me, wrists like tender trucks

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