There's a convoy coming
Carrying a load of gold
All we've got is fans
On a six-foot pole
I said, slow down, brother
You ain't driving here
You're gonna leave
You'll need to reverse here
In the big, big line
The police are mad
The police are mad
The police are mad
With a picket line
It's cold in somebody's home
My fingers are bubbling
I'm losing my hope
It's a shame, such a crying shame
Even if we were losing it all
We're still the same
Standing, standing on the picket line
Standing, standing on the picket line
Standing
Standing on the picket line
Standing, standing on the picket line
Standing, standing on the picket line
I'm with you today
Standing on the picket line
Standing, standing on the picket line
We'll be right back.
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