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I knew of a man |
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Who knew life from death |
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It was in a book that I had read |
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He was hung to death |
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Reluctant and |
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To his grave they dare not go |
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I've been walking on this road |
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This road, this road |
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Waiting for his hands to wash my own |
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My own, my own |
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Wipe the dust from my wrist with his mighty robe |
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His robe, his robe |
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To the promised land I will sure forever go |
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There's a child of mine |
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Laying sick in bed |
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He was caught with a wound that could not mend |
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I called on the Lord to come down and restore |
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But my cries weren't heard from the Lord |
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I've been walking on this road |
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This road, this road |
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Waiting for his hands to wash my own |
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My own, my own |
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Wipe the dust from my wrist with his mighty robe |
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His robe, his robe |
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To the promised land I will sure forever go |
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One thing is for sure |
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When the child is dead |
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There will be no tears on my own eyes |
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They'll just turn their heads |
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And ignore the dead |
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Civil fools, way to be so cold |
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I've been walking on this road |
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This road, this road |
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Waiting for his hands to wash my own |
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My own, my own |
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Wipe the dust from my wrist with his mighty robe |
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His robe, his robe |
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To the promised land I will sure forever go |
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All this time gone by |
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Thought he had saved |
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And be good from hearts that were full of rage |
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Now I know for sure |
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That he brought the war |
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Oh, and retribution's near |
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I've been walking on this road |
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This road, this road |
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Waiting for his hands to wash my own |
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My own, my own |
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Wipe the dust from my wrist with his mighty robe |
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His robe, his robe |
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To the promised land I will sure forever go |