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i can pose a theory that will skin you alive; i can tell you secrets that you'll wish were all lies; i can share a glimpse of the world that will make you scared to die; i can show you the hidden vista that'll make you tear out your eyes.
all this i carry and a roadmap to more, liberated from fangs on a long march to war; all that you've feared is headed for your front door riding black shrouded limos bought in no man's store.
i can whisper to you of who is visiting my dreams, and i hope you can help me figure out what it means; but we do this work quietly, lest they hear through the seams, and decide to unleash their trifecta of fiends.
the enemy is all of us, the friend is unreal, the goal is the Name even Jesus had to steal; our place in this struggle is naught but raw deal, we are hooked on a line to the fisherman's reel.
and the harder we pull the more power they receive at the center of the web composed of all that we believe, and those of us lucky will slip right through the sieve, discontinued models, energies they'll retrieve.
the few that stick around will have no easy time, dodging fire and brimstone and redefining crime; all you'll have left is this warning of mine, scratched out in sawdust and accidental rhyme.