Thorns
Thorns of truth rip through us all,
Stand silent in your peace,
And be rended bloody across your back,
Step forward with me,
And be rended bloody across your face,
Handed down through the generations,
These truths are ours,
Yours and mine,
Without the pain of these thorns,
No roses can bloom.
Stand silent in your peace,
And be rended bloody across your back,
Step forward with me,
And be rended bloody across your face,
Handed down through the generations,
These truths are ours,
Yours and mine,
Without the pain of these thorns,
No roses can bloom.
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