| Your tradition was an illusion, a monstrous pillar of ash
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| towering high, blacking out the sky; | 
| illusion of substance.
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| As we pull that tower down, we saw Heaven kiss the ground.
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| Oh G-d, the Life that shot through our bones.
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| We cried out for water driven from stone.
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| To finally meet the Shining One, that we might praise, as They shown.
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| A connection we could own, someone to stand firm as stone.
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| Withstanding the wave, no matter how uncertain.
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| When times appear grave, You will carry our burdens.
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| This could be the Light; | 
| this could be the Fire,
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| the Lamb to bring the sword. | 
| Blaze rise higher.
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| We must make this right, for our need is dire.
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| Look how they are healed with a touch!
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| His cloak, a wrinkled hand reached to brush, see all infirmity turn to dust.
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| Granted sight to the ever blind.
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| Touch of spit and mud; | 
| or was the main ingredient Love?
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| Could this really be the one to draw the oppressor’s blood?
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| Withstanding the wave, no matter how uncertain.
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| I’ve fought in the dark for too long.
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| I’ll show my face, I’ll bare Your name.
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| No longer afraid.
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| This could be the Light; | 
| this could be the Fire,
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| the Lamb to bring the sword. | 
| Blaze rise higher, higher.
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| We must make this right, for our need is dire.
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| Withstanding the wave, no matter how uncertain.
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| When times appear grave, You will carry our burdens.
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| If he is for us, who can be against us?
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| This could be the Light; | 
| this could be the Fire,
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| the Lamb to bring the sword. | 
| Blaze rise higher, higher.
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| We must make this right, for our need is dire.
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| If he is for us, who can be against us? |