Postcards from the Colonies
The Hanging Bandits
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Take a picture of imperial destruction Attach it to a postcard and write my name I'll receive it after you return With a postmark from the colonies My great grandfather was the bullet Fired from a musket That kept your great grandfather in line My grandfather was the hangman Who rung out your grandads neck In the name of an empire inherited From which he gets no respect It's yours if you can guard it It's yours if you can harvest The produce of the farm with A smile for we take it My father is the manager Who delegates your duties This is the shape of progress Reparations in the form of daily quotas As close to an apology As this empire is willing to give It's yours if we can't find it It's yours before our flag hits The ground you can't deny its Ours; divine connection Same accent as the hangman Same questions as the thief Same skin tone as the master Too ashamed to speak
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Written by: Alexander Laurance, Andrew Fletcher, Santiago Wais
Lyrics © DistroKid
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Postcards from the Colonies Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 24 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/4174685/The+Hanging+Bandits/Postcards+from+the+Colonies>.
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