From the windy grave of Moses
Which God himself dug
So there must be such a place
You can still catch a glimpse
Of the Promised Land just there
Past the Plains of Moab
Past the festivals and the laws
To be carefully observed
That it go well with you
Like a father to his child
I bring stones to his tomb
Who knew I would doubt
And disappoint him the only way
I knew to become myself
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