| there was an old and high grown tree
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| hung with fruits of glas and metal
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| and around it waiting for a piece
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| a crowd of mindless cattle
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| thousand miles and more they’ve wandered
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| to fetch one of those shiny fruits
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| forgot to eat! |
| forgot to drink!
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| only thinking of their loot
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| walking on a path of ignorance
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| shattered hopes beneath their feet
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| following this hollow trail
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| chasing their desire for those rotten seeds
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| keep on selling him your mind
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| keep on kneeling to his rules
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| stunned by the sparkling surface
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| they’ve forgotten who they are
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| the spell of their precious tresure
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| fills the dark void in their hearts
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| keep on selling him your mind
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| keep on kneeling to his rules
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| yet their master is already dead
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| they still sacrifice unto his head
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| the trade facts for the bliss of faith
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| and reason for his mindcontrol
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| drenched in euphoria they ignore
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| that those fruits were made of blood
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| were made of crushed dreams and of tears
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| they keep worshippin' their god
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| they are happy to be blind
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| they are happy to be tools
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| they are happy to be blind
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| even happy to be tools!
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| suffocate!
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| still the tree keeps on growing
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| leading its rotten fellowship
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| straight at the edge of the abyss
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| on this psychopathic trip
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| keep on selling him your mind
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| keep on selling him your soul
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| suffocate on rotten seeds |