| Pry open eyes on a Sunday morning,
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| Now I can see you’re overdressed.
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| Take a step inside and say you’re sorry
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| To your imaginary friend
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| I wear seven sins upon my chest
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| I’m not a victim to the text
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| Written in lies
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| You’d stake your life
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| On hollow faith that knows you best
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| To place the world in His hands
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| You’d abandon truth for comfort
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| This life is in your hands
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| You’re living for the end
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| These fables can’t explain
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| The beating in my chest
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| This life is in your hands
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| You’re living for the end
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| These myths they can’t explain
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| The air I’m breathing in
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| Wrapped up in lies to satisfy
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| Your need to know why we exist
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| You lead a life where morals lie inside
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| A threat haunting your head
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| I wear seven sins upon my chest
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| I’m not a victim to the text
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| No false sense of existence
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| Abandon truth for comfort
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| I wear seven sins upon my chest |