| My brother Esau killed a hunter
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| Back in 1969
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| And before the killing was done
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| His inheritance was mine
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| But his birthright was a wand to wave
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| Before a weary band
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| Esau gave me sleeplessness
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| And a piece of moral land
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| My father favored Esau
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| Who was eager to obey
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| All the bloody wild commandments
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| The Old Man shot his way
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| But all this favor ended
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| When my brother failed at war
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| He staggered home
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| And found me in the door
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| Esau skates on mirrors anymore
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| He meets his pale reflection at the door
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| Yet sometimes at night I dream
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| He’s still that hairy man
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| Shadowboxing the Apocalypse
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| And wandering the land
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| Shadowboxing the Apocalypse
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| And wandering the land
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| Esau holds a blessing
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| Brother Esau bears a curse
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| I would say that the blame is mine
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| But I suspect it’s something worse
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| The more my brother looks like me
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| The less I understand
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| The silent war that bloodied both our hands
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| Sometimes at night, I think I understand
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| It’s brother to brother and it’s man to man
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| And it’s face to face and it’s hand to hand
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| We shadow dance the silent war within
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| The shadow dance, it never ends
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| Never ends, never ends
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| Shadowboxing the Apocalypse, yet again
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| Yet again
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| Shadowboxing the Apocalypse
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| And wandering the land |