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The Rite

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A promise, a lie, a sleight of hand
This is what will move a man
To cede his trust, and time, and being
To any stranger who says We can

Do this, and that, foretell some change
Fabricate hope, and cease the reigns
Pay no heed to history's past
This time's difference will prove us sane

So to the circus we shall head
Starving for this daily bread
In our wake a cardinal path
As if these passages we never read

Updated 09-27-2013 at 08:05 AM by Cabal