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I hear it in a minstrel wind |
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It's crying out the tune |
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Of a prophet's only hope to tell the world |
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He wrote it down it on parchment |
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But alas, no one believes |
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Of the vision, only one man could conceive |
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He knows it's true |
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Will the people have the ears to hear |
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Or will they turn their heads? |
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And blind their eyes to the truth once again |
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How is it that you know the |
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Season's changing by the leaves |
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But still you do not know that summer's near |
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It's nearSo many teachers preach a lie |
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To the sheep who need a guide |
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They need a |
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God that they can touch and see |
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But only if your faith is strong |
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And hope for the unseen |
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You'll find peace amongst the tragedy |
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And woe to those who hear not |
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Woe to souls who've been bought |
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Oh, it's written on the page |
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And woe to those who fear not |
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Woe to souls who've been bought |
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You don't see the ending of the age |
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You wandered through the wilderness |
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For forty years or more |
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To lead you to the promised land |
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Promised years before |
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Yet still you bowed down to a calf |
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You made with your own hands |
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Have you still not learned a thing? |
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The wickedness of man |
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And oh, hands up to the sky |
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And oh, the angel passes by |
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One bowl for the wicked |
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One bowl for the sea |
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One bowl for the rivers |
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Which screamed in agony |
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The sun will then be darkened |
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The moon will get no light |
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The earthquakes will shake up the earth |
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The terror in the night |
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And oh, hands up to the sky |
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And oh, watch the beast begin to rise |
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Remember what |
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I've told you |
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Remember what you've seen |
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And tell the human race just what it means |
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What it means, what it means |