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Snow pristine, ice of grey On the dry, cracky ground they lie. There's a City in a noose of freeways, Spread across like a patched eiderdown. O'er the City clouds are drifting away Shielding little daylight there was. O'er the City there's yellow fog, City's been here for two thousand years. That went by in the light of a star, We've chosen to call "Sun". . And for two thousand years war is on, War without valid reason to be, A war is a game of the young, A remedy from going grey. Scarlet blood, scarlet blood spills...