they've built this boulevard on a burning-blasted plain the seeking pilgrims will never be quite the same all the dreams of avarice only serve to feed the flame... and a third world away our brethren pray just to live another day the missionaries pay their tithe and spin the wheel bet their future for a symbol on the reels flies and death diseases they'd never know the feel... what can you say they're not your problem anyway there's only hell to pay I watched a golden city disappear into the night thought about this vision as I settled into the flight wondered if I truly knew what was wrong or right... and the sun's harsh rays burns down on their graves our minds a world, or more, away
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