Lyrics
I am a fugitive of the law
The outlaw of Gethsemane
The light of the world
Yet darkness overtakes me
Let this cup pass, don’t let them take me
For this flesh is real, these lungs inhaling
And my nerves aren’t impervious
To wood, nails, and hammering
My spirit is willing
But this flesh is so weak
The inside is spilling but
What holds it is bleak
Like this cup that sits before me
I can’t lift to drink
Why must the chalice be so sour
For the wine to be so sweet
Why must I be enslaved to torture
For her to be free
Yet not as I will
But let your will be
For I can’t make her mine
Without proposing
And I can’t propose
Without taking a knee
For you I kneel
For you I’ll die
Your will be done
Just accept my bride
I am a culprit on trial
I created the universe
The filer of the firmament
The stylist of violet
The complier of Pilate
I abdicated sin and lived perfect
Yet to these produced powers
I fall under judgment
I look out and see my beloved
Those of my father’s covenant
Those for whom I was made incarnate
Standing in this square of government
Yelling, “Crucify Him” to their governor
I came to be their comforter
By becoming their prisoner
Yet, they call me a swindler
The orthodox pillager
A slandering sinister
The libel listener
As I heard crucifixion become the crowd’s signature
I saw a chapel start to form around the perimeter
Soon, every person in attendance became a contributor
To the marriage service being administered
For we can’t be wed without a minister
So may Pilate give me away
And it can’t be binding without witnesses
But what a crowd we’ve gathered today
For you I’m judged
For you I’ll die
Disowned by my people
To accept my bride
I am a convict on death row
Marching to execution
My tool of death they place on my back
Like an inmate forced to wire his chair for electrocution
Sinful no, but guilty yes
Guilty of creating revolution
Not one of violence or death
But one that challenged religious, political, and social institutions
For pursuing righteousness I fell under persecution
The creator condemned to crucifixion by a created prosecution
They sentenced me to restitution
By handing me the world’s solution
Making me the substitution
For the punishment of pollution
Taking me through
Dusty streets
To prove my father’s
Not a God of retribution
But one of second chances and resolution
So I march across this created rock
With cross embossed as He had planned
For I can’t take your hand
Unless I walk down the aisle
And I can’t take the stand
Unless dressed in wedding style
So may these streets be the way
And let these beams be my suit and tie
As I walk to you on our wedding day
The nails, the hammer, the crucified
For you I march
For you I’ll die
I take up my cross
To accept my bride
I am a criminal on the cross
Don’t even get my own hill for this sentence
But have to share it with ordinary thieves
For an ordinary thing is this instance
We hang, they wait
We writhe, they play
Casting wages for my garment
Making payments as I make their payment
Not just theirs but my disciples who despise this arrangement
Those to whom I hang for entertainment
And those to whom my hanging is their estrangement
I live and die for their containment in my home
For grace’s attainment in my fold
For I have proposed
And I have kneeled
I have disclosed
The location of our nuptial deal
I have composed
Myself with this cross suit and zeal
Now I have transposed
Iron stakes into our Wedding’s seal
For we cannot be wed without a band
So these spikes will be our rings
You’ll slip mine first into these hands
But you’ll have to wait three days
Until yours I bring
For you the nails
For you I’m crucified
For you I’m forsaken
An acceptable bride
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=6WIb2G1EHMY
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