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Simon And Garfunkel Wednesday Morning, 3 AM He Was My Brother He was my brother Five years older than I He was my brother Twenty-three years old the day he died Freedom writer They cursed my brother to his face Go home outsider This town's gonna be your buryin' place He was singin' on his knees An angry mob trailed along They shot my brother dead Because he hated what was wrong He was my brother Tears can't bring him back to me He was my brother And he died so his brothers could be free He died so his brothers could be free |
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