| So you think that you know me
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| Just like those below me
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| And you think that your wise
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| With those big, wide open eyes
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| So you won’t play along, no
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| You say that it’s wrong, oh
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| And you’re seeing right through me
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| And you dare to accuse me
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| So you no longer love me
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| And you think your above me
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| Yet you run when your able
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| To fetch scrap from my table
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| So you’ve got me confounded
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| But I’ve got you surrounded
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| Where, where indeed
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| Will you turn when you’re in need?
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| If I’m a lie, and maybe it’s true
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| Still it is I that created you
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| And when you die, I’d have you believe
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| That even your ghost is shackled to me
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| As are those who bear your memory
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| Within you live my manufactured dreams
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| Soon we’ll be repackaging your quaint rebellious schemes
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| Within this august engine’s power
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| To vindicate or to devour
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| As armies march and temples tower
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| Our golden glory shines before before you
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| Our golden road opens for you
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| Leave all your troubles far behind you
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| Enter the light, though it blinds you |