| You breed malice into your pews
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| Like death you never have enough
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| Spewing your poison
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| Over the four corners of the world
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| You’re twisted in knots
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| Pouring salt in every wound
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| Spewing your poison
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| Like seeds of discontent
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| Flaunting your hate
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| As a means of backwards religion
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| Hell is not low enough to contain your depravity
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| Hell is not low enough to truly describe where you’re heading
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| Your mouth is a festering wound
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| Never shut long enough to heal
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| Like death you never have enough
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| So your thirst will be quenched
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| It’s just a matter of time before you beg due recompense
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| All the hate you spew will not save you before them
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| Death you never have enough
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| Like death you never have enough
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| Fall to your knees
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| Your redeemer’s robes won’t save you
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| And even your rules betray you
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| You breed malice into your pews
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| And make them suffer under your abuse
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| You breed malice into your pews
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| Like death you never have enough
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| Fall to your knees, Pharisee
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| And burn
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| Your mouth is a festering wound
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| Never shut long enough to heal
|
| Like death you never have enough
|
| So your thirst will be quenched
|
| It’s just a matter of time before you beg due recompense
|
| All the hate you spew will not save you before them
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| Depart from me for I never knew you |