| [Pretext:
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| In the torn flesh, an abstract emerge… releasing its vile stench to make
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| itself known
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| A reminder of the outside, a human stench. |
| A religious stench
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| Its dogma, the cyst, infests your daily life. |
| Their yoke and life so compromised
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| A guilt so hereditary emphasized, and the cure so obvious. |
| No belief no god
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| Still you stand and stare, hiding behind that old mask of God
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| Yes, you’re part of the problem, accepting tradition. |
| Eyes wide shut as they
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| congregate
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| Christians, Muslims and Jews. |
| They see the 'vehemence in those not of the norm',
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| so you get in line… to swallow…]
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| Vehement, I am
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| The new law, new line
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| I transcend, transform, project the heretic
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| Your useless manifest, fable of a feeble god
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| (Do you) think you’re free on your knees?
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| Behind that old mask of God
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| But we ride, vulgar and viral
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| And you cry, defeated again
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| If I kneel, I choose my own power
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| Satan is God, now dominate!
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| As slaves you are, traditions and habit
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| Suppressed, eyes wide shut
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| So compromised
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| Without even knowing
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| Hiding behind the face of tradition
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| Fixed on the new law I am
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| I dissent…
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| The faith is fed religious in doctrines
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| And every time you accept, you inherit the yoke
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| So compromised your life, your guilt
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| The guilt of your fathers
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| Absolute in my reality
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| Erect, stand tall, full of dignity
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| Absolute in my own prophecy
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| Chosen, I build my own identity
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| To fall out of the norm
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| They will gather
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| Have a mind of your own
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| They will congregate, REMEMBER!!!
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| You are part of the problem
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| Accepting traditions
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| You will kneel by habit…
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| In fear of what?!
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| By habit, you’ll kneel down
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| By habit |