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At first the rumors |
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spread about the people dying fast |
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and their body's inflammation |
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infecting everyone at last. |
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No sense in hiding while the scourge passed |
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down the streets |
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good and bad alike were falling |
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during death's voracious feast |
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Like the sound of distant thunder carrying the storm |
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rang the bells of countless churches, keepers of the |
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wisdom, of grand illusions to kneel before His throne |
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while the people's fate just was to work |
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their hands down to the bone. |
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They say we're rotten to the core, |
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our sins now greater than before. |
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Seven ways for hell's intrusion, |
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have we lived in vain? |
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Read what the prophets say |
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about the end of days |
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in the book of revelation, |
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showing Satan's ugly face. |
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Seems to be the war in heaven's been brought upon this land, |
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the unholy conjuration, demons of Gehhena, |
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a final judgement, to purify our souls, |
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so let us dance among the corpses stacked |
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around a hunderdfold. |