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I am the legion of the field
The cat of nine tails who drives you from the temple
For you are foul, you who moisten your lips with blood
And my people cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
Yet it is not the people who he forsakes
But you who bring upon yourself His anger
With the blow of a trumpet your nation shall perish
And under our feet you shall reside
The blood in my veins will be shed for my brother
But you who scorn my name and mock my humility
Shall be touched by the angel of death
Who bears the green of Earth and the hope of humanity
Where I will fall he shall rise
He will march till the end of days
And will bring home with him the defeat of his enemies
No matter what dress you wear or what looks you're granted
You are all the same - doomed
His scars will tell us of a battle long fought
And of a victory justly earned
He will christen my people with freedom
And bear unto you the wrath of the Lord
And in the end you shall cry, "Eloi, Eloi lama sabach-thani?"
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