| Those myriads who raised the pyramids
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| That bottom that built for the top
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| They scaled those walls
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| To see the blessings I said I’ve got
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| And I realized my deserts only better
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| If the good Lord deems the necessary plight of weather
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| Oh how I hoped, oh how I’d gloat
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| For a wicked escape from their homes as if I had it all, as if I wasn’t still
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| drinking from that moat
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| They fixed their eyes on a god stuck in the sky
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| They kept their gaze on the rooftops, not the death inside
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| Thy fixed their eys on a god stuck in the sky
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| Some place for escape, but eternity began before our time
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| There stood truth in the darkest night, maybe the tyrants had fallen by the
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| wayside
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| And I watched from my mountain what I thought was a holy light They’d brought
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| down the priests, they’d brought down the priests and their religion with fire
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| They burnt the churches where they’d worshipped, not a single heart contrite
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| And I burnt a cigarette, drank the kings whiskey to help clear my mind
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| They set it ablaze like desert brush on a summer’s day
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| We could have dirtied our hands and washed the lies away
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| For truth exists, and oh how it exists
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| But like my mother says, «We'll probably have it all wrong in the end»
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| I fixed my eyes on the sun stuck in the sky
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| I kept my eyes on the source of that light
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| Oh I fixed my eyes
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| I fixed my eyes |