They nailed him up...
one of many
many millions
young men
crucified
purges
There were millions.
Thousands in a day
crucified, beheaded
Burnings
Would he stand on the hill of the killing field of Infidels
With their observations, books, thoughts,
Sight
Would he look upon their bodies and smile?
For some strange reason, madness perhaps,
I think to myself he would weep.
He never was about guilt
Never wanted that for you
would grieve to see you grovelling
confessing Sin
Before the Axe you bow and cry
Tell Him about your Sorrow
He cares not for simple guilts
and Fear
Is it not Life
That you would hear Him speak about
I do not know,
I cannot say
Think of this Being at the center
Speaking
Surrounded by His acolytes
Wanderers
A message of
Acceptance
Peace
Strength
Love
Community
Blown apart we are divided
The Break
We are broken Apart
Become Wanderers again...
He does not want your Suffering
for Guilt, Shame and Fear
The cross on which he hung is NOT his friend
No Ally was he nailed to
Electroshocked minds of happiness
it's so much better now
We have so much to do...
We dance naked in tiny boxes of white
Almost afraid of the fields flocks once roamed
Terrified of dirt,
and the smell of grass
Worshiping the guillotine on which our rebels and heroes have departed...
Screaming
"Truth...
and freedom!"
I will not bow before this Axe
It killed my friend
His Life is the True Story
Not the fairy tales of his Father
Jesus did not point to the sky
He pointed to his centre, and that of the others there
"This is what we seek
Together..."
Not the noose and its tying...
The bullet in its flying
The machete and the pistol
And the Pyre.
C. Taylor
one of many
many millions
young men
crucified
purges
There were millions.
Thousands in a day
crucified, beheaded
Burnings
Would he stand on the hill of the killing field of Infidels
With their observations, books, thoughts,
Sight
Would he look upon their bodies and smile?
For some strange reason, madness perhaps,
I think to myself he would weep.
He never was about guilt
Never wanted that for you
would grieve to see you grovelling
confessing Sin
Before the Axe you bow and cry
Tell Him about your Sorrow
He cares not for simple guilts
and Fear
Is it not Life
That you would hear Him speak about
I do not know,
I cannot say
Think of this Being at the center
Speaking
Surrounded by His acolytes
Wanderers
A message of
Acceptance
Peace
Strength
Love
Community
Blown apart we are divided
The Break
We are broken Apart
Become Wanderers again...
He does not want your Suffering
for Guilt, Shame and Fear
The cross on which he hung is NOT his friend
No Ally was he nailed to
Electroshocked minds of happiness
it's so much better now
We have so much to do...
We dance naked in tiny boxes of white
Almost afraid of the fields flocks once roamed
Terrified of dirt,
and the smell of grass
Worshiping the guillotine on which our rebels and heroes have departed...
Screaming
"Truth...
and freedom!"
I will not bow before this Axe
It killed my friend
His Life is the True Story
Not the fairy tales of his Father
Jesus did not point to the sky
He pointed to his centre, and that of the others there
"This is what we seek
Together..."
Not the noose and its tying...
The bullet in its flying
The machete and the pistol
And the Pyre.
C. Taylor
