They twisted thorns
Upon His head
With the staff from His hands
They hit Him again
They spit and mocked Him
Stripped His robe
Took Him to die and they cheered
While His blood flowed
But the Word
Had the last word
When He rose from the grave
Free from the nails and scourge
And the Word
Won't be kept down
He's coming back in the clouds
With a Scepter and crown
Most of my life's
Been in the crowd
Afraid to stand for the One
Who folded His own shroud
I've mocked him through choices
And the lies I've given voices