| The chosen ones are walking through the new desert
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| All the way uptown to Riverside
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| The faces of the fathers
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| They look a lot like mine
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| But I watch them from across the great divide
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| Today they have all been forgiven
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| Washed clean before another year begins
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| Me I’m playing in the park with my children
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| And I pray that they forgive my sins
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| This is my sanctuary
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| On this High Holy Day
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| I lay down the burdens I carry
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| In my sanctuary
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| The forgotten ones
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| Were screaming from the rooftops
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| A thousand souls had all been washed away
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| Everyone was told
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| The levees wouldn’t hold
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| Now the mourners are marching everyday
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| And the music keeps rights on playing
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| 'Cause of all the places water wouldn’t fall
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| It wasn’t the churches or the chapels
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| It was down at the Preservation Hall
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| «This is my sanctuary»
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| You could almost hear the ghost of some old trumpet player say
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| «Lay down the burdens you carry
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| In my sanctuary»
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| The chosen ones are all still searching
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| Waiting for the savior to appear
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| While you and me
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| We congregate in mystery
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| And I listen to you whisper in my ear
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| This is my sanctuary
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| Brothers and sisters let us pray
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| I lay down the burdens I carry
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| In my sanctuary |