Epiphany [tribus] | √

The King of Kings

Their bodies convulsing
Shivering, swaying
Their souls are detaching
Minds are decaying
Hearts filled with dust
Throats are pulsating
Blood issues forth
Foreign in the making
Diabolical Beast
From its chamber is waking
In the lost world of Hell
Where God has forsaken
And God has forsaken, forsaken the fated

The cries of the troubled
The Damned, terrified
Souls of the broken
Rise to the skies
Prayers for relent
Cut off with the knife
The blade of the flames
For the worst of all crimes
Then here at last
In the pungent sunrise
The marrow of old bones
Finally dries
And it finally dries, dries up with the lies

A wave and a motion
Then from within
A figure emerges
He bears not a sin
Fights for the New World
So hatred would end
Forgiveness of all things
Freedom of men
Capitalize Murder
With a capital M
Prop him up on the wood box
And from it he's pinned
And he's pinned, by men that underestimate him

No longer had it been
That a tomb was paved
And the crowd was few
But the rest ran away
But it was three times later
On the third of the day
That he emerged from the earth
And he rose from the grave
And he looked from the sky
At the world that he made
That he made with his actions
When he went to the grave
And he went to the grave, so that all could be saved