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How easily are their minds deceived
By what they think they see
That if the emotions are so grieved
Their views will all agree
How easily the artist's pen
Can paint a picture grand
When the portrait is of famous men
Who formed the hallowed ground
'Tis so simple yes, to lead the mass
Where they might want to go
Use superstition to form the grass
Where they want the grass to grow
There's always someone who makes it work;
Who profits from result
Who, from reaction, always shirks
From what might be all his fault
'Tis always folk who have no faith,
Faith in themselves and man,
Who think that God keeps them safe
Though 'tis proved he never can
Some look for faces in the smoke
Because they cannot see
Why such evil lives in a bloke
That looks like you and me
How many pictures of Jesus Christ
Are sold throughout the land
When no one ever saw his face
To paint his portrait grand
Who ever saw an ancient Jew
With bright and round blue eyes
Who ever saw the Devil too
With horns we all despise
The truth is that we all do see
When we look with fear and hope
A sanctuary where we'd like to be
Where we no longer have to cope
We see those things that are not there
We grasp and cry for God
But the Lord does not deny despair
Nor save us from the sod.
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