| While walking slowly down upon my lonely road one day
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| The dust did bite my eyes, and I could not find my way
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| My destination faintly gleaming far beyond my weary eyes
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| I continued on my pilgrimage to Paradise
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| I continued on my journey to a place I’ve never been
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| With no assurance it would be there, save a glimmer in the night
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| That flashed and flitted fitfully among my waking dreams
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| I continued on my pilgrimage to Paradise
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| I met travelers upon the way who could no longer stand
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| I offered them refreshments and stretched out a willing hand
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| Not that they would not or they could not, they just did not understand
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| How painful was my pilgrimage to Paradise
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| Now, my own feet they are bleeding, and my tongue is parched and dry
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| I called to a fellow traveler but he did not heed my cry
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| Did I run too far ahead or did I lag too far behind
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| Upon my painful pilgrimage to Paradise?
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| Some people speak of pastures where the milk and honey flow
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| I have no such illusions of the place I want to go
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| But with bleeding blisters on my feet, no friendly shade in sight
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| Is it worth the painful pilgrimage to Paradise? |