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Preaching to the Converted Lyrics

The Public wants what the public gets. Lazarus himself wouldn't rise into
this world. Decry relativity d***ed petulant for seeing through a Trojan
horse full of zyklon while Judas' coffers overflow. What? New world
(dis)order is nothing new. Choking on poison air pouring whiskey into
crescent moon lacerations. Time to b*** the hand that beats. Teach our
children well, teach them to kill. Global jihad for a thousand years.
Sanctified our blood spills, sutured with commodities. Iron fist in silken
glove ripping away autonomy, replacing with a placebo. Realize that our
wounds will never heal while Judas' coffers overflow.
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