This building is barley standing on its own foundation.
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I've collapsed its lungs, calloused its heart and sucked the life out of this for all of Sunday to see.
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I've taken the breath out of everything they believe, everything they hold true.
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Preaching to the deaf and blind, no one sees my effort.
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No one gets the point.
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Welcome to my dying home.
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Welcome inside these crumbling walls.
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A meaningless handshake greets them all with smiles of false hope.
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Do I even care as I watch a sea of people dwindling into an audience of skin and bones- an audience who doesn't have the strength to walk out on a man who has tarnished their faith?
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Vital Signs
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| August Burns Red |