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Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe |
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There's people always dying, trying to keep 'em alive |
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His body's decomposing in containers tonight |
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In an abandoned building where |
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A squatter's made a mural of a |
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Mexican girl |
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With fifteen cans of spray paint and a chemical swirl |
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She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world |
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Four winds blowing through her hair |
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But when great |
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Satan's gone, the whore of |
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BabylonShe just can't sustain the pressure where it's placed, she caves |
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The Bible's blind, the |
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Torah's deaf, the |
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Qu'ran's mute |
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If you burn them all together, you get close to the truth still |
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They are pouring over |
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Sanskrit on the |
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Ivy League moons |
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While shadows lengthen in the sun |
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Cast all the school and meditation built to soften the times |
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And hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds |
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It's knocking over fences, crossing property lines |
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Four winds, cry until it comes |
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And it's the sum of man, slouching towards |
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BethlehemA heart just can't contain all of that empty space |
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It breaks, it breaks, it breaks |
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Well, I went back, |
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I rent a Cadillac, a company jet |
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Like a newly orphaned refugee, retracing my steps |
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All the way to |
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Cassadaga to commune with the dead |
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They said, "You'd better look alive" |
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And I was off to old |
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Dakota where a genocide sleeps |
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In the black hills, the bad lands, the calloused east |
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I buried my ballast, |
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I made my peace |
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With four winds, leveling the pines |
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But when great |
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Satan's gone, the whore of |
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BabylonShe just can't remain with all that outer space |
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She breaks, she breaks, she caves, she caves |