What have you done to die in anguish upon your cross of wood?
What sordid crimes of greed of passion, what deeds of blood?
The watchers stared; they mocked or pitied, or diced the hours away.
The odd man out, instead of curses they heard you pray.
So we must watch; ask all the questions; evade the truth; or try
to understand, as this world darkens, why you must die.
What to believe? We watch, we listen; blinded by love, we see
the inexplicable is simple- you died for me!