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A curse in honor
The winner, held by the will
The winner a proxy
For the grand wreath, and grand motif
Somewhere the courter sings
Albeit a bit better than me
We'll all be fine on our own
The ladder, an iron spider
Meant for courting, the steps of government
Who would wear it better, you or I
Cicero, would you think it's better now
Having an end, or living life in the cage of the self
Oh Cicero, Oh Cicero
Oh Cicero, Oh Cicero
Would we have been hanged by the quarter
Or pinch dimes, for a loaf of bread
Would you have sung me songs
In the history of zero time
It's all to fear
No matter friend
We'll be safe behind our books instead
The design, without a head
Opportunity is knocking in its stead
Oh Cicero, Oh Cicero
Oh Cicero, Oh cicero
Draw up the plans, calling the bluff
Blind as the scheme of the enterprise policy
Testimonial constructs of perverted hypocrisy
Proverbial fabrication, of gun downed democracy
Unoriginal, speaking of mind
Lost gardens, they speak, slain by the phase
The perversion of god, is the only way out
Versus what is
There's only a doubt
Oh Cicero, Oh Cicero
Oh Cicero, Oh Cicero
Oh Cicero, Oh Cicero
Oh Cicero, Oh Cicero