| What say you, Lord
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| For the olive boys down in the house of corrections
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| As they try for love and any form of ascension
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| Am I on the right train headed in the wrong direction
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| What say you, Lord
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| What say you, Lord
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| Am I living wrong
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| Do you see a long road with no one on it
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| And the right of men that you learnt only to forget
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| You see my sad wife and my high margin of profit
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| But you don’t care at all
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| You don’t care
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| At all
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| What say you, Lord
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| Now that they’re breeding all our animals insane
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| And the remedy is growing harder to obtain
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| There’s a white horse running wild through the switch-cane
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| I can hear him now
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| And I fear him
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| 'Til Kingdom come
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| Caught in this frenzy of elimination
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| Such an irreparable disintegration
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| My body’s twitching with a ready expectation
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| For Kingdom come
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| My Kingdom
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| Come
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| What say you, Lord
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| Why is the truth of this so hard to unveil?
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| Though it’s true I never knew what this would entail
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| From the hands of Christ to the heads of the Daily Mail
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| I’ll see you all
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| And I’ll raise you
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| Lord
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| Now what say you, all
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| I wonder when the light is brought up for sale
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| With the weight of love and the grace of the Baleen Whale
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| Will the severed Heads of State be at all curtailed
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| Will they be here at all —
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| Will they be dead and gone?
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| What say you Lord
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| Of the serpent-taled, forbidden fish of the harbours
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| And the ready-men, defiant drinkers and charmers
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| All lost and summoning the face of their fathers
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| Can you see them now?
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| I can see them
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| What say you, all
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| Do I believe it if I do not want it
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| Do I lie alone and keeps my cold hands off it
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| Honey, it ain’t hard to loose your grip in the midst of all of this
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| But it ain’t far to fall
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| It’s not far at all
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| Pain
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| What |