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Were all prisoners of imaginary lines,
trapped within boundaries that torments our minds.
Foreigners and insurgents are simply a crock.
Were all alike and live on the same rock.
Soldiers and freedom fighters all play the same game,
its just the different clothing that changes their name.
We've been taught to see colors and creeds,
and all this old thinking leads to horrible deeds.
We should open the borders and address differences at hand,
and stop squabbling like children over parcels of land.
For today we're here but one day we'll be gone,
how long will this madness carry on?
Fighting over land, and oil trying to be sly as a fox.
Doesn't matter for in the end we'll all be in the same box.

Stanley Victor Paskavich

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