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Murder by Jesus, or New Roman Times

Daddy Bear

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Hail the mob in lockstep, hear the jackboots on the floor

A simple job to sidestep what the man was standing for

The gait becomes a goosestep, and they're marching as to war.


They conquer north and south, they plant the banner of his mercy

A song in every mouth, and yet the soul for blood is thirsty

I raise my hand in doubt; they blindly crucify and curse me.


They claim the sky above, though none has ever turned a cheek

Serpents all, in dove disguise of feathers, wings and beak

Roll on with bastard love, my friends; en masse hypocritique.

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