| Forced to endure throughout our pestilence
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| As the gift of life turns to curse
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| From the confines of sepulchres
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| Voices for vengeance cry
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| Souls flit about their desolate tombs
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| The unborn smell death in the wombs
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| Still, we warble of the light to come
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| Yet hope faids as the dark prevails
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| The endless chantings discordant now stand
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| As we ourselves with prayers blind
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| Words of salvation and comfort known are not
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| Is there but no light to shine upon
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| Can there be no light which shadow will not make?
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| The depth to which the gory scars go suits
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| The length of time in which they do not heal
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| There comes light with sacred visions
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| There lies hope within faith
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| The strong last and the awakened remain
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| We have nothing with the outcast and the unfit
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| Let them fall in misery
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| Compassion be the vice of us
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| And thus we resent it all
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| Shall not stand with ones who cry
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| Aloud their folly, ye shall be as ye are
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| Begone you warps, you bended minds
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| Fear shall not come upon me
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| Mute is now the ground of ours
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| Ends one, begins another
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| There is light before thine eyes
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| A light desired, much desirable |