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Sunday's Finest

All the way completely, unproclaimed mystery

Rise up early with a dried up short cough

Scratch the scabs from the hands weak from magnificence

Look there, you know, weather-beaten, sad and worn

The country’s heart and stare will trust again

Time grows large and expands like a cancer

But you yourself knew this mere deception

And so you died, and chose your reward, in Christ

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Lyrics submitted by Cab.

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