| Their dumped along the coastline on a silent East trade wind
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| Then appearing if by magic, in freight-lined bins
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| From labor market hell, straight to well-worn shelves
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| Would Jesus shop at Wal-Mart if the crosses were on sale?
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| Things upon blessed things
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| In idolatry where death is worshiped
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| Cash cured sins, in this fetish of the object holy
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| Still you put your love in idols built by mortal man
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| Now what did God say in that old testament?
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| And what about those workers, in exotic China-land?
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| They have your daddy’s job, and you’re next on the corporate outsource plan…
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| as serfs born to serve your Lord in command
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| «Now our border’s the place where the grace of Christ ends
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| It does not apply to those heathen abroad
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| As long as they slave, I’ll have them to thank —
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| It’s more cash in hand to spend at the mall»
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| Woe to the children of God!
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| O Suffer thy misguided ways!
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| …you've sold your human essence to the cold world of dead and empty things…
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| You’re sold |