| The wound of the warden
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| From cradle to the grave
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| The senseless apprehension
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| Of freedom’s wily ways
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| I know one day they’ll be grateful
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| I know one day they’ll worship me
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| Choice is too precious
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| To be wasted on vermin
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| That’s how we’ll keep them
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| Sheltered, fetal, fed and glutted
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| The sweet drug of anesthesia
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| Hell is easy to find
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| And I know that in time they’ll be glad I kept them blind
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| I will save you, I will absolve you
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| I will spare you, I will rob you
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| I’ll take upon me the canker of knowledge
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| I’ll take upon me the fetid price of glory
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| How great it is, the transcendent goodness
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| The self-assurance of the pure
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| Suffering eases at the gates
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| And laughter ceases at the gates
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| Someone above you always knows better than you
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| There’s something comforting in the stranglehold of a shepherd’s crook
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| How great it is, the transcendent goodness
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| The self-assurance of the pure
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| Not one misstep, not one mistake
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| All calculated for our sake
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| Like children we’ll step into the fire |