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I. The Stones |
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Of YearsHas the dawn ever seen your eyes? |
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Have the days made you so unwise? |
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Realize, you are. |
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Had you talked to the winds of time, |
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Then you'd know how the waters rhyme, |
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Taste of wine, |
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How can you know where you've been? |
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In time you'll see the sign |
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And realize your sin. |
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Will you know how the seed is sown? |
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All your time has been overgrown, |
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Never known. |
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Have you walked on the stones of years? |
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When you speak, is it you that hears? |
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Are your ears bone? |
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You can't hear anything at all. |
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II. MassThe preacher said a prayer. |
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Save ev'ry single hair on his head. |
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He's dead. |
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The minister of hate had just arrived to late to be spared. |
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Who cared? |
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The weaver in the web that he made! |
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The pilgrim wandered in, |
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Commiting ev'ry sin that he could |
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So good... |
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The cardinal of grief was set in his belief he'd saved |
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From the grave |
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The weaver in the web that he made! |
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The high priest took a blade |
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To bless the ones that prayed, |
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And all obeyed. |
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The messenger of fear is slowly growing, nearer to the time, |
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A sign.The weaver in the web that he made! |
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A bishops rings a bell, |
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A cloak of darkness fell across the ground |
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Without a sound! |
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The silent choir sing and in their silence, |
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Bring jaded sound, harmonic ground. |
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The weaver in the web that he made! |
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III. The Battlefield |
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Clear the battlefield and let me see |
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All the profit from our victory. |
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You talk of freedom, starving children fall. |
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Are you deaf when you hear the season's call? |
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Were you there to watch the earth be scorched? |
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Did you stand beside the spectral torch? |
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Know the leaves of sorrow turned their face, |
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Scattered on the ashes of disgrace. |
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Ev'ry blade is sharp; the arrows fly |
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Where the victims of your armies lie, |
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Where the blades of brass and arrows reign |
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Then there will be no sorrow, |
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Be no pain. |