| Go quiet k as the story says
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| everything is consummated
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| If I have drunk from this chalice, that was your will
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| and not mine
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| And my wounds are inside, they are not in plain sight
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| They are not made by nails
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| My name is not San Pedro, but it doesn't turn out that your name is Maria either.
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| And if you have any doubts, I already know your deception
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| It's not worth thirty manes
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| And I know it was a poor kiss that sleeps on the laps
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| of your face of innocence
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| And on this mountain and calvary tonight I have thought of an idea
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| That I adored you so much and loved you so much
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| I no longer see your veins
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| Damn whoever thinks my cross, I'm carrying my cross on my back
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| Of all akellos k knew about the deception and kept their silence
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| Those who listened to me knowing that it was my last supper
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| And they dipped their bread, in the silent plate in the bulk of the fool
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| There is a commandment that is very clear that my jealousy does not speak
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| There is no coveting, my brother, the goods of others
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| Now I'm going quietly, relieved, clean inside
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| Pork is risen from a past hell
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| up there in the skies
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| Aba, heaven is finished
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| I'm just history, history
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| So go calm down and everything is finished
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| Do not let your conscience fall into the doubt of feeling guilty
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| Two hundred lashes, hit me in the back
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| therefore delivered
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| But esk take me from my side or the one who crucified me
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| Don't see your serious k
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| Go quiet woman, everything is finished
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| If I have drunk from this chalice, that was your will
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| and not mine
|
| And my wounds are inside, they are not in plain sight
|
| They are not made by nails
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| I am not San Pedro, I am just history
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| neither are you maria
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| And my wounds are inside, they are not in plain sight
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| They are not made by nails
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| I am not San Pedro, I am just history
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| K I am not Saint Peter nor is your name Maria |