| All of the God’s children they all have to die
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| Pauper to King sworn enemies to kin
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| From men without sin to those with the beast
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| within
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| The grave is absolute, the grave is all
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| O, Death where are your teeth
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| That gnaw on the bones of fabled men
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| O, Death where are your claws
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| That haul me from the grave
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| Do you have justice to trump the divine
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| To steal the sanctity from their sermon
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| Reduce to ash, writing of piety
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| And conquer the lord’s word
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| I think you do Do you bring fear to the hearts of heathens
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| When your breath is upon their necks
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| And the Gods will not answer
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| And the sun is no longer in the sky
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| O, Death I am not ready for the grave
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| So turn your steeds around and loosen your reins
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| I am not one for the tomb
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| So rise my brothers, rise from your graves
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| Throw your shackles off and stand by my side
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| So rise my brothers, rise from your graves
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| No grave is deep enough to keep us in chains |