They called it faith
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They called it fair
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They called it resolution
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I call it shit when we were alone
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They simply paid no mind
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You'd suffered such a crime
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Then there you were
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A mother way too soon
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They said you'd made your bed
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Then they filled your head
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With the sound
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The bells of a cathedral
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You say you're still ashamed
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I with that I could make it stop
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Like salt thrown over shoulder
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A coin tossed in a fountain
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Not unlike a knock on wood
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You said only in as much
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As you were sensitive to touch
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Did you feel like a human when they spoke
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And so you hid your life
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All bottled up inside
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Just enough to make
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Your angels choke
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You took all you heard
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And tried to make them your own words
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Only deafened by the sound
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The bells of a cathedral
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Now you hate yourself and I wish that I could make it fucking stop
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All my life
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Surrounded, unfounded
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Teachings thought as threats
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I won't forget
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-----------------
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The Father, The Son, And the Homosexual...
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Dillinger Four |