Texty: Woe Of Tyrants. Golgotha.

Was it a day, a day just like today?
Imagine, the same sun we know casting a haunting shadow upon the sand.
In a not so distant land, spectators breathing the air we breathe.
Casting the same rocks, sweating the same sweat, Their eyes ablaze, glazed with an ancient gaze, it was still the same, then as today.
The weight of the timber of that tree, pails in comparison when contrasted with the weight of the world; the shame and the pain, the burden we just couldn't bare.
The darkest day on the earth some would say, the Light of the World searching ever ready to ignite.
The soldiers are tormenting bu they don't know why, still He is speaking on their behalf.
This day would bring hope to us all.
There's imminent danger at hand, and in the sand we still stand.
With our spears ready to thrust, our feet creating dust.
And now it swirls like a tornado in hot pursuit of it's next building to collapse.
The thick glass we see through darkly, as we have smeared it with mud.
And somehow we still think it to be all about us,
But it's all about You.
I know I'm covered in filth, and I need to be cleaned.
For this curse is strong, but the cure is here, and although I fall, I know that you're near.
I know that you're right here.
You're right here.