| The walls alive, their stories ringing litmus
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| True valor of the soldier questioned in a time of war
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| Now the jury leaves, expressing righteous dignity
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| Scratching planks within their eyes
|
| Without even a moment their deliberation ends
|
| A momentary judgment of a sick and dying man
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| Escaping through an iron door
|
| The boulders coming faster now
|
| The healing hands of saints surrender
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| As they see the head that glows disdain
|
| The looks of disappointment stain
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| The once opaque within these walls
|
| They bring the stones
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| To shatter the scenes
|
| Making flaccid sculptures form
|
| Mere fragments remain
|
| The gospel’s wondrous beauty
|
| Now in pieces on the floor
|
| With the demons running rampant
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| In the eyes of unforgiving sons
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| Without hesitation
|
| There is need for retreat
|
| The walls are crumbling down
|
| When they see me leave
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| They soak the bridge in gasoline
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| And we descend together |