| In the vastness of the desert I find myself
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| Temped by a voice within
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| The drowning sound of flies running through my skin
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| A snarling rising from the ground
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| Is this an actual hunger or a craving that I feel?
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| The emptiness grows strong in me
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| All these stones may turn to bread
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| The grains of sand could turn into speed
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| A body to honor God
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| By making it a holy shrine
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| And put a knife to your throat
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| If you are ever given to
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| Gula
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| With greedy bites you gulp down the ambrosia
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| Truly it’s the food of gods
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| A ferocious mouth of hunger opens like a void
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| No ashes, no reverence to God
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| When you face the final judgement, the people that you’ll see
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| Raving like starving hogs
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| On their knees in excrements
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| Guarded by a three-headed dog
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| A body to honor of God
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| Or a temple made of dust
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| Put a knife to your throat
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| If you are ever given to
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| Have some more, take everything
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| Take everything
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| Eat and drink, 'cause tomorrow you’ll die
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| No dead will rise
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| Put a knife to your throat
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| 'Cause now you have been given to
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| Have some more, take everything
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| Take everything
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| Eat and drink, 'cause tomorrow you’ll die
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| No dead will rise
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| Have some more, take everything (Everything)
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| Take everything
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| Eat and drink, 'cause tomorrow you’ll die
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| No dead will rise |