| Lethargically we drag our feet to the confessional
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| Poor minds encased with the guilt
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| No reversion as sins are committed
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| Believing by confessing the sins
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| Thy problems be resolved?
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| Nothing is more idiotic & naive
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| Than to preach eternal gospels
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| Just because a man is dressed in black clothing
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| Is he a so-called saint?
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| Just because a man is appointed to this position
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| Is he untouchable for us?
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| Make a contribution to what’s called Christianity
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| Bying oneself out once move, absurd insanity
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| Be humble & generous, donate thy money & care
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| Repeatedly believed, blindly they’ll preach eternal gospels
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| Sense the solving emptiness, drown away into deadened air
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| These souls shall not recede, depressed glances we absorb
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| Isolated from the enlightened world
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| We prowl round this disowned fortress
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| The view is wearisome, therefore
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| We convent to cold, dreary beings
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| Sense the solving emptiness, drown away into deadened air
|
| These souls shall not recede, depressed glances we absorb
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| Engraved… are disapproving reflections…
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| Pale… bittered faces…
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| Indication of… a mournful atmosphere…
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| A futile purpose… without an end…
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| Normally we stroll to the confessional
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| Minds no longer filled with the guilt
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| Reversion as no sins are committed
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| No more confessing our sins
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| The problems are resolved!
|
| Nothing is more idiotic & naive
|
| Than to continue to preach eternal gospels
|
| Just because a man is dressed in black clothing
|
| Is he a so-called saint?
|
| Just because a man is appointed to this position
|
| Is he untouchable for us? |