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In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
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When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
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There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere,
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Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.
G#7 C# G#
Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
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Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
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In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand
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In every leaf that trembles and, in every grain of sand.
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Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
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Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good
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cheer.
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The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
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To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.
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I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
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And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
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Then onward in my journey I come to understand
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That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.
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I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
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In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
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In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
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In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.
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I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
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Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me.
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I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan
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Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand
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