Wonder how it would be to be the great Redeemer

the one to bestow upon you life and death

the one to poison you when you're down

or to be the one to hand you the crownofthorns

when your hands are sore

(and) to save you from the everything you care for

Are you bitter when you see how pale you are?

Do you feel hate without direction?

A kind of seed inside you that never blossoms

It is at the gallows end one forgets that everything

has to have a greater meaning

An unrecognisable call drags you towards the unspoken word

to suffer Martyrdom for the others

The Saviour cut off your wings, somehow just to remind you that He exists

Those who wait for His salt with open wounds have a way to go

the shadows of your must rest (first)

Though I ask, why do you dig your own grave when others do it for you?

The force behind the hit can not be mistaken

'cause He's the saviour with magnanimity and

...a light in the dark

Maybe it is intimidating more than lighting the way

where is the road going? To a place where you can wash the blood of your

hands?

Where did the knowing go?... With a saviour to transcendental kingdoms

or to the valley of the forgotten?

behind the vault of the sky's mystery lies a dream

damned or saved, how could we ever know?