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!