The blood stained final breaths and
The gasping of a dying king

Dead mans bones trying self-recitation
Refusing to accept the toe tag’s pronouncement

Lifeless devils trying to impart
What they themselves have no knowledge of

Screaming in horror because their rights ebb away
As the coins are placed on the dead man’s eyes

The crucified figure can’t raise a finger
So how can he raise himself?

No manor of coxing, bribery or threat
Can make the impossible true

The carnal figure is dead
While my spirit dances on the fresh grave

Driving in the nail further in with every step
Kneading out whatever life might remain

My heart has been freed from the usurpers clutches
The rightful king is again upon His throne

The King’s spiritual surf bows prostrate to proclaim
The old king is dead, long live the king