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your order is your anarchy |
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your violence your peace |
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your gospel is your blasphemy |
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your famine is your feast |
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destruction is your architect |
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your woman and your priest |
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I fear your falling sanctuary's |
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soon to be your beast |
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I believe in something strange |
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the prophecies are closing in |
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upon us one by one |
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the angels of the seven churches |
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maiden of the sun |
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silent lay the gentle lamb |
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the prayer and the gun |
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I believe the gates above |
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are closed to everyone |
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I believe in something strange |
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Prophets and angels fall from the altar |
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weak is the grip of the hand of the brave |
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pray for the bleeding that lie in the shatters |
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pray for the dying that lie in their graves |
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submission through guilt and fear |
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is not what I had in mind |
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and my blood has run far too thin |
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among the hands of you all |
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and I'm afraid I have nothing |
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left for you |
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a symphony of tragedy |
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awakes a watchful eye |
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a serenade of agony |
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pours down from the sky |
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the dancers of catastrophe |
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go quickly spinning by |
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I begin to understand |
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the simple reason why |
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I believe in something strange |
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strange this song of mine |