Woe is Calvary.
There's no end to this pain.
There's no end to this agony.
Maybe God could have done different.
Because the last time I checked, the world was no less indifferent.
Woe is Calvary.
The cross, the contempt, the misery.
The sneer, the scorn, the travesty.
Who can save us, this wretched humanity?
Maybe God could have started without.
This creature formed in his image.
Upon the ruins of Babel, they shout,
"I'm free! I'm free! I shall pay you no homage!"
So what good is good friday?
Where they put God on a stake.
What good is the narrow way?
Seriously, for whose sake?
Is God now redundant?
Have we retired our messiah?
Have we created an age of abundance?
And in His stead, reign our own desire?
If so, this is our irony.
The Maker's image is the image maker.
We can't escape this infamy.
Man's redemption? Any taker?
Imagine 6 billion gods, a global cohort.
Imagine each is on fire, to become man's next messiah.
Can we even live at peace?
Can we even aspire?
To put humanity's pain at ease.
To tame our endless desire.
l think the end is near.
This is my mortal fear.
When man decides to rule.
As gods, there's no greater fool.
So, woe is Calvary?
Or, woe is man's tyranny?
I guess the hope is misplaced.
Because the son cannot be replaced.
"It is finished!" is not a cry of the end,
Of suffering, Of death, Of pain.
The Cross as bloodied as it stands.
ls not a sacrifice that's in vain.
So the world will go on.
Though pain will not fade.
This is my savior's song.
Rarefied by love this world cannot relate.
Thus I shall rejoice on Friday.
I shall turn my eyes on him.
Because I know three days to Sunday.
In gladness, my soul shall sing.