| I have lain with the lamb
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| Sang his tender praise on long dark nights
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| Searched my drawn face long and hard
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| For a sign of his light
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| Shoulders to the wheel for the grist of faith
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| Is manna for the blind
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| Like a child of Cain without the providence of truth
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| Joy did come. |
| It rose with the morning sun
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| Like cold guilty sweat across my brow
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| These are the first words that fell upon my lips
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| I have lain with the wolf
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| He seeks me out and demands my company
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| In the corner of a crowded room
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| With words of madness and water of fire
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| He whispers, when the demons come
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| Do you make peace with them or do you become one
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| Of them? |
| Do you?
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| If I give name to my furies, can you name them?
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| He preaches salvation in the loins of women
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| And the black sciences
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| When the shadow fell upon me
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| I knew I was running with the wolf
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| And it was his eyes I saw staring back
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| And this I learnt and this I know
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| You cannot escape the beast when you wear his mark |