| Take comfort in the cadence of the bond we share
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| A visionary born and raised to see with an unbiased sense of sight
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| We pause just for a second to properly embrace the radiance
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| We are the anointed dipped in filth
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| Taught to cower in fear of being identified
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| But tragedy will find us
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| And I’m held captive by my spoiled soul
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| I won’t allow it to affect my stride
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| The procession will proceed
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| As we’re gifted with our own idea of peace
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| So find yourself in me
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| I promise I will keep you as we harvest the passion that remains
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| Make my skin your sanctuary
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| I make a pact with the earth to draw life from the living
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| Make my skin your sanctuary
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| Leap to the beat of my blood
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| So place your hand in mine, drag your feet across the tops of trees
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| Breathe easy knowing that the branches will support you
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| And the weight of your complication
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| In the midst of the ruin that surrounds us
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| We communicate but only in tongues
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| Our lips will welcome the caress of crucifixion
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| And we stain the wood with defeat
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| I am not a mortal, I am a metaphor for moving forward |