In fiery flight the sun rises to the sky,
Left low, grim and alone to sit and ponder why
My life has come to end upon this fateful morn,
Murder's crimson omen, bloodiest red the dawn.

Led in chains through jeering crowds, mind with terror fraught,
Ravens gather on the gates, eager for their sport,
Their dreadful tree bears fruits of death, stripped in decay,
The carpenter's bloodthirsty child waits for it's prey.

Ever has mankind condemned where Jesus forgave,
Hid away their sin and shame in an unmarked grave,
Shrouded from the sight of God, will he find his child?
Where I lie angels weep for innocence beguiled.