Bitter sorrow and torment, we sent Thee to.
Suffering and and pain were Thy lot,
Until by death You did part,
Then to life returned.
Why did You call these tatter souls Thine?
Why do You want us at Thy feast?
We who did betray You to Thy DEATH.
Why it is we do not know,
Yet here in the shaddowlands,
Beside the old worn cross faith does come alive,
As Thy holy blood cleans this tattered soul.
2004 - MMH/MMN
~ Traveller Gal, out!
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