Take Him as you find Him,
Leave Him where He lay, 
Its time to talk of bigger things
Than where our Master stays.

Lay Him down, lay Him to rest
Upon these cosmic sands,
Lash Him up with crown of thorn,
Drilling through the hands.

Trade a penny for a feather
The glue which binds His lips together
Is burning through His skin,
No longer lets the air flood in,
His mouth is filled with blood.

Let it trickle down the drain,
The sound formed by the pouring rain
Is searing through His head,
Makes Him wish that He was dead,
His hand moves to His veign.