| I heard that old St. John, left his life behind him
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| Abandoned his children in dust
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| He settled in Santa Fe, and told the ones he met there
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| That he was the hand of god
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| They built him to a saint, but he’s nothing but a man
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| Who burned every bridge that he came upon
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| I’m told that old St. John, claimed to heal the ailing
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| And the poor would cherish his name
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| But I knew that ill-willed man, as baleful and obsessed with
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| Women and liquor and fame
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| They built him to a saint, but he’s nothing but a man
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| Who burned every bridge that he came upon
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| Haven’t you ever been lied to
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| By saints with a soulful sound
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| Haven’t you ever been lied to
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| With words that belong underground
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| You can try and try to believe in
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| Someone you never should trust
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| But prayers and the money you’re sending
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| Are adding thick layers of rust
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| Haven’t you ever been lied to
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| Haven’t you ever been lied to
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| I’m told that old St. John, never felt remorseful
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| And believers never knew his past
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| But I’m certain that if he’s gone, he did not go to heaven
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| And his scripture and it’s lies won’t last
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| They built him to a saint, but he’s nothing but a man
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| Who burned every bridge that he came upon
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| They built him to a saint, but he’s nothing but a man
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| Who burned every bridge that he came upon |