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but still no explosion
the fear that grips us has no proper base
we know of evils but they have no shape
our senses have been covered by a cape
the truth is not in some far distant space
we aren't so sure but that it's all on tape
the fear that grips us has no proper base
a kind of mask will fall upon each face
allowing us to lie and bow and scrape
a sort of fading sense of the true ape
the fear that grips us has no proper base