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Their Revolution
They go to a dance in the street on dime of the night, with the dradfles of delight
They all spin and spin and spin all again, with the hope of all the things
For they lost all they had to the spinning of a wheel, but they risk losing more to another reel
They don't know moot that the spinners get the loot, even their boot,
So they stumble back to roof by the store with feet all a sore
When they wake in the mourn, with pain pain! not adjourn
All day long they steal for their meal and a chance at the wheel,
Before they find themselves in the street on the dime of the night, with the dreidels of delight.
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