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Dead Artist Syndrome

Politicians bore my heart to tears with every gnawing day,
Evangelists are preaching fears of the judgment day,
Heaven knows the limits to the lanterns of the loyal, who souls were sold for profit and it's heart's desire.

And then it will burn, and I pray,
Then it will burn, and I pray.

Though it screams, "Unfortunate" to the local tyrants,
Stressed-out workers prayed for rent as their jobs expires,
Angry child throws a grenade to make his voice be heard,
Tomorrow is the funeral for the little heard.

Then it will burn, and I pray,
Then it will burn, and I pray.

Rob the truth of all it's grace is a loud conspiracy,
Taliban tanks will roll down streets for theocracy,
Cancer's life causes pain morphine won't disturb,
I thank God every day I don't get what I deserve.

Then it will burn, and I pray,
Then it will burn, and I pray.

Can you find the conscience on flashing movie screen?
Will you find the love you want in a glamour magazine?
Somehow flames that mystify slowly explain to me,
Tears that bleed for mercy call on the risen Son.

Then it will burn, and I pray,
Then it will burn, and I pray,
Then it will burn, and I pray,
Then it will burn, and I pray,
Then it will burn, and I pray,
For ever and ever,
For ever and ever,
And I pray,






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