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When we're out, on the street
Stares from people, who we meet
Dressed to kill, looking for a thrill
In ou faces, the way we look
You seem to know us, although we're never met
The noose is tied tight and we're already hung
It's a Skinhead, way of life
Misunderstood by most, hated by some
We choose this way of life, our struggle, our strife
We still continue, after many years
A subculture of pride, proves the test of time