The Artist Bible: Easter নমুনা

I am a fugitive of the law
The outlaw of Gethsemane
The light of the world
Yet darkness overtakes me
Let this cup pass
Don't let them take me for
This flesh is real
These lungs inhaling and
My nerves aren't impervious to wood, nails, and hammer

My spirit is willing but this flesh is so weak
The inside is spilling but what holds it is bleak
Like this cup that sits before me I can't lift to drink
Why must the chalice be so sour for the wine to be so sweet
Why must I be enslaved to torture for her to be free
Yet not as I will but let your will be
For I can't make her mine without proposing
And I can't propose without taking a knee
So
For you I kneel
For you I die
Your will be done
Just accept my bride

I am a culprit on trial
I created the universe
Defiler of the firmament
The stylist of violet
the compiler of pilate
I abdicated sin and lived perfect
Yet to these produced powers I fall under judgement
I look out and I see my beloved
Those of my father's covenant
Yhose for whom I was made incarnate
Standing in this square of government
Yelling "crucify him" to their governor
I came to be their comforter
By becoming their prisoner
Yet
They call me a swindler
The orthodox pillager
A slandering sinister
The libel listener
As I heard crucifixion become the crowd's signature
I saw a chapel start to form around the perimeter
Soon every person in attendance became a contributor
To the marriage service being administered
But we can't be wed without a minister
So
May Pilate give me away
And it can't be binding without witnesses
But what a crowd gathered today
For you I'm judged
For you I'll die
Disowned by my people to accept my bride

I am a convict on death row
Marching to execution
My tool of death they place on my back
Like an inmate forced to wire his own chair for electrocution
Sinful, no, but guilty, yes
Guilty of creating revolution
Not one of violence or death
But one that challenged religious, political, and social institutions
For persuing righteousness I fell under persecution
The creator condemned to crucifixion by a created prosecution
They sentenced me to their own restitution
By handing me the world's solution
Making me the substitution
For the punishment of pollution
Taking me through dusty streets to prove that their father is not a God of retribution
But one of second chances and resolution
So I march across this created rock
With cross embossed as he had planned
For I can't take your hand unless I walk down the aisle
And I can't take the stand unless dressed in wedding style

So may these streets be the way
And let these beams be my suit and tie
As I walk to you on our wedding day
The nails, the hammer, the crucified
For you I march
For you I'll die
I take up my cross to accept my bride

I am a criminal on the cross
I don't even get my own hill for this sentence
But I have to share it with these ordinary thieves
For an ordinary thing is this instance
We hang, they wait
We writhe, they play
Casting wages for my garments
Making payments as I make their payment
Not just theirs but my disciples who despise this arrangment
Those to whom I hang for entertainment
And those to whom my hanging is their estrangement
I live and die for their containment in my home
For grace is attainment in my fold
For I have proposed and I have kneeled
I have disclosed the location of our nuptual deal
I have composed myself with cross suit and zeal
And now I have transposed iron stakes into our wedding seal
For we cannot be wed without a band
So let these spikes be our rings
You'll slip mine first into these hands
But you'll have to wait 3 days before yours I bring
For you the nails
For you I'm crucified
For you I'm forsaken
Now you're an acceptable bride