| Circus Maximus
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| Was a time, in a land, at a place faraway
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| In a place we know as Rome
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| Many years, torn away, fades the distant memory
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| Try to think, what was life, when you knew one thing
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| That was please your king or die
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| Was a way, as a slave that you could become free
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| Masses will bet on his name
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| Women lust after his fame
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| The gladiators face is masked by pain
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| His wife and child will be slain
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| Promises someday he’ll take revenge
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| Against the one who’s to blame
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| The one who’s to blame
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| Was a time, that he led, many men through the mud
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| All in honor of thier king
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| Counts the days, till he’s done, where he wants to go is home
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| Then he’s called to the tent, where he finds he is dead
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| That was murdered by his son
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| In his grief, then he turns and announces he is free
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| There is a price on his head
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| He then escapes with tears shed
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| The gladiators face is ripped by pain
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| His wife and child have been slain
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| Vows that someday he will take revenge
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| Against the one who’s to blame
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| The ones who’s to blame
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| We will live if we work as one
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| He must stay alive to meet them
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| The gladiators face is ripped by pain
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| He is well on his way
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| Falls beside the one, he has revenged
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| Strength and honor, no shame
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| Honor, No shame |