ev’rybody has ‘dere cross to bear
we drag them through the mocking streets
gall on our brows looking for the release of death
and the hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ll walk again
in glory and resurrection shimmering in the face of disbelief
ev’rybody has ‘dere cross to bear
a weight in thorns and jeers and cobblestones
slick beneath our feet like superstition nailed in steps
our scorn is bourne on whipped shoulders sweating in streams
and the screams of the lookers on could never match our own scorn.
ev’rybody has ‘dere cross to bear
like stoned resentment and judgement rendered
and the clowns of our own fears released like pudding on dreams
vinegar is the sour benediction and testament to the teas of our desire
let this cup pass by, oh lord, let this cup pass by pass by pass by pass by
