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The velveteen and oaken fixtures soothed the lonely child |
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The parents watched the escort take him while they stood outside |
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The priest was kind and gentle as he positioned his head |
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The pain was like brimstone, but the kid hardly bled |
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Victory, instinct over intellect |
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Victory, it erupts from deep inside |
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History, history is laughing at us plotting its discovery |
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Victory, victory, blame it on the victory |
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Among the parade crowd there stands a decorated man |
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Remembering how he helped to save this sacred land |
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His helpless enemy was wounded, both hands raised with hope |
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He killed him without second thought, with brute force and a rope |
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Victory, instinct over intellect |
|
Victory, it erupts from deep inside |
|
History, history is laughing at us plotting its discovery |
|
Victory, victory, blame it on the victory |
|
So many times, so many lives |
|
Test the other side |
|
Waiting to see what the maker has in mind |
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The unsuspecting commoners hum diligent each day |
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They wallow in their father's sins, as time passes away |
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The crimes are without motive but they ignore all restraint |
|
The evil sits inside them torpid timing its escape |
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Victory, instinct over intellect |
|
Victory, it erupts from deep inside |
|
History, history is laughing at us plotting its discovery |
|
Victory, victory, blame it on the victory |
|
Blame it on the victory |
|
Blame it on the victory |
|
Plotting its discovery |
|
Victory, victory, blame it on the victory |