| Jesus Christ I’m coming — terrestrial home.
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| I’m allowed to guide their train
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| to visit you in Rome.
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| I am sick of preachers telling to be plain
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| while you got it nice in here.
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| They’d better feel ashamed.
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| Oh, ways of gold
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| lead is into Your blaze of fame.
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| Oh, are You waiting
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| for what we have brought You from hell?
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| Glory of Rome, glorious home.
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| Praising the king of the kings.
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| Glory of Rome, glorious home.
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| Reaching for haloes and wings.
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| Heading for the angels, heading for the feast,
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| heading for salvation and the ruin of the beast.
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| Let us fight the outcast, let us brin 'em fire,
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| let us lock the center of their wicked, mad desire.
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| Oh, ways of gold lead us into Your blaze of fame.
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| Oh, are You waiting
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| for what we have brought You from hell?
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| Glory of Rome, glorious home.
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| Praising the king of the kings.
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| Glory of Rome, glorious home.
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| Reaching for haloes and wings.
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| Holding in my hand: Seven parts of a seal
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| to unlock the land of illumination I feel.
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| And it’s been foretold: after touching the light
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| we shall lock the world.
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| But now it’s our time to transcend,
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| the ultimate key in our hand.
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| Glory of Rome, glorious home.
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| Praising the king of the kings.
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| Glory of Rome, glorious home.
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| Reaching for haloes and wings. |