As the blind walk the blind through the blackness of freedom
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Who writes the songs that we all will be singing
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Who writes the books where I lay my hand out open
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So to swear myself into your grace
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As the blind walk the blind down the borderless highway
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Who holds the chain, who bears the load
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Don't you be fooled if my spirits are unbroken
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I'm told in the next life my fortune is owed
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I'm warned not to preach if the serman I have written
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Or stand on some soapbox I've built with my hands
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For those who preach well will be bought out by some industry
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That herds the golden cattle before insecure eyes
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Golden Cattle
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The Low Anthem |