Wonder how it would be to be the great Redeemer
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the one to bestow upon you life and death
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the one to poison you when you're down
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or to be the one to hand you the crownofthorns
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when your hands are sore
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(and) to save you from the everything you care for
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Are you bitter when you see how pale you are?
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Do you feel hate without direction?
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A kind of seed inside you that never blossoms
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It is at the gallows end one forgets that everything
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has to have a greater meaning
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An unrecognisable call drags you towards the unspoken word
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to suffer Martyrdom for the others
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The Saviour cut off your wings, somehow just to remind you that He exists
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Those who wait for His salt with open wounds have a way to go
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the shadows of your must rest (first)
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Though I ask, why do you dig your own grave when others do it for you?
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The force behind the hit can not be mistaken
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'cause He's the saviour with magnanimity and
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...a light in the dark
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Maybe it is intimidating more than lighting the way
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where is the road going? To a place where you can wash the blood of your
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hands?
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Where did the knowing go?... With a saviour to transcendental kingdoms
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or to the valley of the forgotten?
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behind the vault of the sky's mystery lies a dream
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damned or saved, how could we ever know?
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Havoc Vulture
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Satyricon |