I've got an itch I cannot scratch
It drives me to distraction
And if I do not reach the source
I'll have to take some action
It comes from my old landlord
The evil prince of hell
Who lost a willing follower
When for The Lord I fell.
The world is always calling me
It whispers words of love
Always there, just like a thorn
That's caught up in your glove
As long as I perfect my gaze
Upon The Lord of light
Then I will put up with the itch
Whenever, day or night.
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