| No peace in the Valley, there shall be no relief from this great weight
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| With grief we made haste to the gateway
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| «Abandon all hope ye who enter here» read the inscription
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| My vision filled slowly with tears
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| Minutes turn into years, the voice of one crying out in the wilderness
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| This pilgrimage has only begun
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| People lend me your ears, fill your hearts with fear
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| Make penance, for with vengeance, night draws near
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| Tell me who’s that writing? |
| John the Revelator
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| I labor to put down my blood onto paper
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| Gave me a crown made of Ursa Major, they made her
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| The Harlet in Scarlet
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| I’m taking naps between anxiety attacks
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| I’m trying to relax, smoke grass fertilized off the backs of corpses
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| Trodden by horses, there were four of them
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| Conquest, famine and war, and one more, named death
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| The depth of my breadth is unmet
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| I’m becoming unraveled on the road less traveled
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| I know Jesus wept, but I abhor the Lord
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| Fell on my sword, forever slept |