| Skeezix bloated in petulance from the night’s debauch
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| Wields his mutated feline frame down from his arboreal watch
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| Space 109 is always occupied by the countless faces who tried and tried
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| Bruises from an unseen source as chronic abuser runs his course
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| There is no remorse
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| Sinewy limbs reach through the bars to collect the carcasses of souls
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| Given over the deeds of infamy, Skeezix took his toll
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| The ungainly truncated form of the docile Pipsisewah
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| Subtle in demeanor yet with powers that beggar description
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| They call him by different names
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| Some call him Gilgamesh, the man who has never tasted death
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| The size of the room is half as large cause you walked around it twice
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| And you walk again with both eyes shut cause your fears became your vice
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| (II. The Battle)
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| Tormentor underestimating the power of the Pipsisewah
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| Confrontation on the grandest scale the outcome already known
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| The child whose humble prayer set the battle of ages
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| Torment no more
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| (III. The Victory)
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| We call him Jehovah who’s always near
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| And you can win the battle when you pray without fear
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| The weak are victorious when the strong reaches down
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| And the ones who bring sadness will bow to the Crown |