| Father, father, come see what I’ve built
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| Made civilization out of the Nile silt
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| Built your monuments out of my brother’s bones
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| Exalted your words in flesh-bound tomes
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| It’s hard enough being born in the first place
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| Who would ever want to be born again?
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| It’s taken this long just to get to this place
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| So what’s the point in ever being born again?
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| Papa, papa, come and watch me play
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| The whole world before me I laid to waste
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| Built Jerusalem out of these hidden worlds
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| But I won’t share it with the other boys and girls
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| It’s hard enough being born in the first place
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| Who would ever want to be born again?
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| It’s taken this long just to get to this place
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| So what’s the point in ever being born again?
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| More embarrassed than I’d hope to admit
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| The living embodiment of perfect
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| A reversed Oedipal complex
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| Based on power and not on the sex
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| More embarrassed than I’d ever to admit
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| The living embodiment of perfect
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| A reversed Oedipal complex
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| Based on power and not on the sex
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| Daddy, daddy, are you proud of me?
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| I did it all for you because of what I believe
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| The sins of the father carried out by the son
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| From Cain and Abel until the last living life is done
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| It’s hard enough being born in the first place
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| Who would ever want to be born again?
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| It’s taken this long just to get to this place
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| So what’s the point in ever being born again?
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| Again we stand slack-jawed
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| As our fates are moved by the hand of God, of God, of God, of God, of God
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| A God is what we see
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| As we stare into his Papal eyes |