| If I run uphill, I’m out of breath
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| If I spend all of my money, then I’ve got no money left
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| If I place all of my chips on only one bet
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| I’m all in
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| And it’s a surefire bet I’m gonna die
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| So I’m takin' up praying on Sunday nights
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| And it’s not that I believe in your almight'
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| But I might as well as insurance or bail
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| 'Cause institution’s like a big bright lie
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| And it blinds you into fear and consuming and fighting
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| But in the desert underneath the charging sky
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| It’s just you and God
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| But what if God’s not there?
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| But his name is on your dollar bill
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| Which just became cab fare
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| For the Evangelists, the Communists, and the Lefts and the Rights
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| And the hypocrites and the Jesuits, and the blacks and the whites
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| It’s in the belly of the beast
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| In the Atlanta streets
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| Or up in Laurel Canyon
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| The verge of Middle East
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| Still they’re dying on the dark continent
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| It’s been happening long enough to mention it
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| Have I mentioned my parents are getting back together again
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| It’s been 25 years
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| Of spreading infection
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| Somehow we’re not affected
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| So my mom, she brushes her hair
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| And my dad starts growing Bob Dylan’s beard
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| And I share with my friends a couple of beers
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| In the Orlando streets
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| In the belly of the beast |