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False hope handed down, spun all around, |
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With ignorance from past generations. |
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How many times and with how many rhymes? |
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How many twisted endings for you, for you to realize? |
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It's not for you to say what every heart should pay, |
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Another body and soul that isn't your own. |
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Get off my back, this was never salvation for me, |
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So keep it away. |
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I don't feel a thing can't make believe |
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I do. It's something |
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I don't need, it's something that you do |
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And I respect you. |
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Turning the page, |
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Turning the page in an old book misread. |
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Twenty something rows back now offer up your souls at |
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The drop of a single white robe. |
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All things foretold, but do you really know what, |
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Mans worst creation has got you in its hold. |
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I refuse to pay (I refuse), |
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I refuse to stand for organized crime. |
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Organized crime comes in more forms than one, |
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And your god is no exception. |
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I don't feel a thing can't make believe |
|
I do. It's something |
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I don't need, it's something that you do |
|
And I respect you. |
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Turning the page, |
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Turning the page in an old book misread. |
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If I'm not being clear, |
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This right here is about, |
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It's about my disgust with the way |
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I was almost brought up. |
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I'm taking it back, |
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My piece of mind. |
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We'll leave it at that. |
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In '83 a lamb was led |
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For many years until its head |
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Began to swell, it did explode |
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With reasons to think on, to think on its own. |
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I don't feel a thing can't make believe |
|
I do. It's something |
|
I don't need, something that you do |
|
I respect you. |
|
Turning the page in an old book misread. |
|
I don't feel a thing can't make believe |
|
I do. It's something |
|
I don't need, it's something that you do |
|
And I respect you. |
|
Turning the page, |
|
Turning the page in an old book misread, |
|
An old book misread. |