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Hiss - Wovenhand
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Hiss Wovenhand

Hiss - Wovenhand
Lord of hosts
Exalted in judgement
The lambs feed after their manner
God is holy
All the strangers sit down and eat
Woe unto them
Vanity's unbelieving
In the judgement seat

Them that say
Let Him make speed
And hasten to His work
That we may see it
Woe unto them
Their light for darkness
Their bitter for sweet

Hiss
Hiss

Who justifies and frees the guilty
For a bribe
As the tongue devours the stubble
As the dry grass sinks down
In the flame and dies
As the bees are hissed
From out their hives
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