I don’t know why you think,
soldier, that I hate you,
if we are the same thing,
me,
you.

You are poor, so am I;
I’m from below, so are you;
where have you got it from,
soldier, that I hate you?

It hurts me that sometimes
you forget who I am;
heck, if I am you,
it’s the same that you are me.

But not for that reason I
have to dislike you;
if we are the same thing,
me,
you,
I don’t know why you think,
soldier, that I hate you.

Soon we’ll see ourselves, me and you,
together on the same street,
shoulder to shoulder, you and I,
with hate from neither me nor you.
but knowing you and me,
where we go, you and I…
I don’t know why you think,
solider, that I hate you!

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